To Love Somebody
by CardioQueen
Summary: Set just after the end of Cristina's residency, she finds herself in a difficult life with Owen Hunt, but she won't give up on him because she loves him. Or she thinks she does. This is a Burke/Cristina/Owen Triangle.
1. Chapter 1

_The past. Sometimes we live there, longing for the days of old. Sometimes we resent every part of it and regret days gone by. Sometimes we can pinpoint the exact moment that your life went into a tailspin and we wonder exactly what we could have done differently to prevent that collapse. More often than not though, the past has a way of coming back to haunt us. It picks up memories desperately in need of being forgotten, dusts them off and places them in the forefront of your mind. It can be a card, a picture, a song- a person. Just when you think you've pulled yourself together, the past finds you and reminds you just how good it really was. What you have to be careful of though, is when the past tries to remind you how it could good be again._

x-x-x-x-x

The sky. No, not the sky. The sky isn't usually that dark. Maybe the ocean.

Yes. That's it, the ocean. The ocean just outside of Malibu with turbulent winds falling off of an afternoon storm causing the waves to crash against the shore- that's the color that his eyes were. With little flecks of gray that shone through when he was tired or when he was slipping into that deep abyss that try as she might, she could never keep him out of.

Today, though, they were just blue.

Rough fingertips danced across the curve of her hip, sliding upwards over fine beads of sweat. Red whiskers grazed porcelain skin and left small streaks, little marks of possession. Pink lips met, tongues twined, two bodies melted into one. Her lips broke from his again, a gasp escaping as her fingernails dug into his sculpted shoulders.

An amused smirk crossed his lips when she unraveled for a second time, writhing beneath him as she lost all control. Flashes of light disrupted her gaze into his eyes and she let them slip closed, electricity curling her toes and sending shivers down her spine.

His name left her lips in a sexy little whimper, one that always drove him over the edge and he released deep inside her. Collapsing over her, he buried his face in her thick black curls as he fought for breath. She had this effect on him that no woman ever had. If he was the type to believe in soul mates, he would believe that she was his.

Owen Hunt had never loved another woman like he loved Cristina. Words failed him when it came to describing her, when it came to trying to find a definition to fit exactly what it was that they had.

He knew he was damn lucky to have it.

Finally, he rolled off of her, pulling her to his side. His eyes drifted closed and he felt her tracing words into his abdomen delicately. He smiled when he felt the words, and answered her in a rumble of a voice. "I love you too."

Cristina looked up at him with a furrowed brow, "Too? I didn't say I loved you."

"You traced the L over my seventh intercostals space. The O just above it. V landed over about where my mitral valve would be," He rattled off with a cocky grin, "Shall I continue?"

"Please." She answered, matching his expression. "Continue in your delusions."

He rolled over and kissed her forehead, his hand sliding down her back. He wanted to tell her how lucky he was, how fortunate he was to have ever found her- but the words just wouldn't come. He never had the right words to say to her. His fingers slid down her hip and to the scar that lay on her abdomen. It was fading now, a testament to the years that they've spent together.

Marriage has crossed his mind a few times, but he's not ready yet.

What he doesn't know is that it's crossed hers too.

There's always a certain sense of hesitation, a sense of timing being off. A certain reminder her that right now, he's as whole as he'll ever be- when he takes his medication every day and gets his blood drawn every month to make sure that it hasn't killed his liver.

He's broken and time after time she's had to remind him that she still loves him, that even if he rattles when he walks from all of the medications, she still loves him.

A smile crosses his lips as he looks down to see that she's dozed off.

Their life together is good. They cook together, though cooking usually consists of her eating the vegetables as he's cutting them and teasing him relentlessly as he pan fries some chicken. Sometimes he can talk her into cutting the vegetables and he uses the opportunity to torture her the way she does him. They watch movies, the genre depends on his mood- he can only handle so many mysteries, despite the fact that they're her favorite, because the sound of a gunshot still causes him to break into a cold sweat.

Cristina understands and she says that she wants to be there, but he can't help but feel that he's compromising her, that he's taken something away from her. He knows enough to never say a thing about it because he's heard the story about Burke. Putting his fist straight between his eyes is still an idea he entertains despite the fact he hasn't heard the pain in her voice for years.

It's probably the same thing that people have wanted to do to him. He's left a fiancée too. Just not that close to the church. Somehow it makes him better than Burke, it makes him different. What he did was worse.

Maybe it's worse because he did it to _Cristina._

One day, he'll find the words. One day, he'll find a way to break past the final barrier that keeps them apart and he'll ask her to marry him. He'll gently bring up the idea of kids- he oft finds himself wondering if it's possible to have a little girl that looks like her, but with his blue eyes.

Secretly, he has a name for that little girl too.

He doesn't daydream about any other kids, just the girl. Owen is smart enough to know that if he can talk Cristina into one that another wouldn't ever be an option. She'd be miserable pregnant, but he'd rub her feet and her back. He'd paint her toenails and remind her that she was beautiful and abstain from alcohol for every last minute that she did.

Owen knows that Cristina would be a good mother and that their daughter would be beautiful.

What he doesn't know is how he'd handle being a father. What if he lost it when she was at work and he hurt the baby? What if he lost himself once again and he couldn't hear the baby crying or in distress?

He let out a heavy sigh that caused her to stir slightly. Carefully, he eased away from her and slid out of the bed. He bent over, pulled on some clothes and left her lying across an empty bed. His mind wasn't going to stop tonight and he didn't want to wake her. She'd been particularly busy at work this week and he knew how important it was for her to rest.

He wanted to take care of her. He wanted to spend his life with her, but any time that he focused on it, this is what he felt. This is what happened.

His chest tightened and his throat closed off, making it hard to breathe. Sinking to the couch, he ran his fingers through damp red hair and let out a breath, trying to calm himself. He would never be able to get it together. He would never be good enough for her. He shouldn't even be with her.

He wasn't good enough, he wasn't strong enough, he was _weak._

Weak, weak, weak.

His tear filled eyes traced over to the bottle of pills sitting on the end table, where they had to stay in cases just like this. He looked away from them and tried to force himself to breathe. If he could just breathe then he wouldn't have to take the goddamn pill. If he could just get his chest to stop hurting he wouldn't need it.

He slammed his fist into the couch cushion, trying to find some sort of strength inside him to make it stop. A sound escaped his lips, and he'd never been able to name it. It was the sound of him breaking combined with torture mixed with tears and frustration.

And it was enough to wake Cristina.

She crept quietly into the kitchen and filled a glass with some cold water, wearing only his t-shirt. Slowly, she approached him and picked up the bottle of pills on the way. Everything was carefully choreographed, but etched into her muscle memory. She'd been here before. They both knew this place all too well. Glass on the table, bottle open and one pill in her palm.

Cristina opens his hand, uncurling his clenched fist carefully and she puts the pill there. If she puts the pill there, it's easier for him to take it because he's not doing it. She's making him. He raises it to his lips and she reaches for the glass of water. Her eyes remain fixed on his face as he takes a drink and then puts the cup back down with a shaking hand.

It's a routine that she's all too familiar with.

She reminds him that she loves him, that she doesn't mind. This happens. It's not a big deal.

He looks up at her with saddened eyes and she notices that the color of the ocean has faded and all she sees is gray.

Cristina will never admit it because she loves him and she doesn't want to hurt him; but sometimes she wishes for days where she can only see the ocean.


	2. Chapter 2

"It's not a good idea to go," Cristina sighed, pushing the brochure away. "It's just not a good idea to go. I can do a conference another time."

Meredith eyed her friend closely, "Y'know, he survived before you just fine. He can survive four days without you. You've been talking about this for weeks. This is your invitation. They want you to speak!"

Cristina smiled faintly. It was an accomplishment, getting to speak at a conference so early in her career. She wanted it so badly and it's not that Owen had been doing badly; he just seemed tenser lately. Tense enough that she wasn't sure about leaving for that long.

"Have you told him that you were thinking about not going?" Meredith questioned, breaking her reverie. She knew that he wouldn't have it.

Cristina remained silent, looking at her name with the words 'keynote speaker' underneath. It was such a big deal to her. "Yeah." She lied, "I have."

"You're a piss poor liar, Yang." Meredith said, snatching up the brochure. "Cristina Yang MD, PhD. Head of Cardiothoracics, Seattle Grace Hospital. Nowhere in this description do I see nanny."

"Shut it." Cristina muttered, looking down at the table. "I'll take care of it. It's not a good time right now. Things are busy." She traced her fingers along the specks, averting her gaze. Her head jerked up when she heard the sound of metal against ceramic tile and she looked up to see Meredith bolting across the cafeteria with the brochure in hand. "Shit." She hissed under her breath, getting up to chase her.

Owen had just settled on a turkey sandwich when he found himself faced with Grey, a crème colored piece of paper folded in her hand. "Dr. Grey?" He asked, his eyebrows raised in a way that expressed more surprise rather than curiosity.

"Look what Cristina got in the mail today." She said, offering the slightly crumpled piece of paper. "Not even an attending for a full two years and she's already a keynote speaker. The conference is in Boston. She's known about it for three months. She just found out that they wanted her to speak. And she's going to tell them no. Have a good day, Dr. Hunt."

Without another word, Meredith walked away from him with a triumphant smirk and back towards Cristina. She took hold of her elbow and leaned in. "I did that for your own good. You deserve this and he knows it. What's the worst that could possibly happen?"

Cristina jerked her arm away from Meredith's hand wordlessly and walked towards Owen. Her eyes drop to his chest as he scans over the brochure. "I can go another time. I don't want to go now. Things are too busy."

"Last week you were complaining that the department was too slow for your tastes." He uttered softly, looking down at her.

"It picked up."

"Your name isn't even on the board today." He countered.

"It will be tomorrow. A lot."

"You're going on this trip. I can make it four days without you." His hand came to his waist and his eyes focused even more sternly on her. "Cristina, look at me."

Her eyes trailed up to his for just a moment and then back down at his chest. "Owen, it's fine. I don't want to go right now."

"Look. At. Me." He said more slowly, reaching out to tip her chin up. He knew that the physical contact was enough to make her squirm and more than enough to make her do what he wanted her to.

Reaching up, she took hold of his hand and pulled it from under her chin and dropped it gently at his side. She wanted to tell him that he hasn't been fine, that he's been nervous and it's doing things to him that he'd escaped doing for months at a time.

She didn't say a word of it.

Maybe it was because she wanted to go. Maybe it was because she knew she was going to lose anyway. "It's still not for a few weeks. Things will change. Things might change."

"And they can change with you in Boston for an extended weekend." He assured her, "Cristina, I want you to do this. You have to."

"You could come with me."

He clenched his fist slightly in his pocket. "I will be fine. I don't need you to take care of me."

"Th-that's not what I said. That's not what I'm insinuating."

"It isn't?" He asked, "That's not what this is about? I'm not blind. I know you worry about me. I know that you watch me. I'm not your child, Cristina. I'm a man. I'm supposed to take care of _you_. It's not supposed to be the other way around."

"I don't like to be taken care of. I don't need to be taken care of." She argued in a hiss, "I'm fine."

"And I like you taking care of me?" He asked, gray flickering through the blue in his eyes as they bore into hers. "You're going to this conference. You're staying at the conference. End of conversation."

Before she could respond, he walked away from her. She glanced at the brochure sitting on the countertop with her name plastered across the front and then looked away from it just as quickly. Nausea overwhelmed her as she thought about leaving him right now.

It wasn't like before- it wasn't like he would experience these anxiety attacks all the time. Nothing was like before. After she had finally told him that there was nothing she could do for him, after he finally went to the VA and got the help that he needed- after he started the antidepressants, everything had changed.

Their relationship after had been like a dream. He cooked for her, he spent the evenings with her. After Callie left Seattle, they moved in together and shared a happy life with each other. It was everything she'd never expected in her life.

It was something she didn't want to live without.

And it was something she was terrified of losing.

She was very aware of the fact that she could be over thinking it. He'd had to increase the dosages of his medications before. There were times that he required more of his anti-anxiety medication than others.

Cristina was starting to feel like she needed to be medicated.

With a sigh, she picked up the brochure and walked out of the cafeteria. She wanted to be excited about this milestone, but the only thing she could feel was anxious about leaving him and guilty for making him feel like a child.

She knew she'd have to make it right.

x-x-x-x-x

The smell of Chinese wafted through the kitchen when Cristina walked into their apartment and she smiled faintly. There were candles lit and two bottles of beer sitting on the table. She dropped her coat by the door along with her bag and tossed her keys to the counter.

Owen walked out of the bedroom with wet red hair and looked at her in silence, trying to gauge her reaction.

She crossed to him slowly, her gaze never leaving his. Reaching out, she rested her hands against his chest and stood on the tips of her toes to kiss him softly. A wave of relief rushed through her when he kissed her back a little more hungrily, a little more passionately and his arms wrapped around her.

He teased his lips away from hers, but still remained close enough that they seemed to share the same breath. "You are an amazing surgeon, Cristina." He said, his voice low and raspy, "And you deserve this. You _have_ to do this. I want you to go. Please."

"I'll go," She murmured in response. "I'll go. I'm sorry I-"

"Don't apologize. Just stop." He said, not wanting to further discuss it. He had enough of a battle on his hands without worrying about her fighting it as well. It was just one final hurdle and they'd be fine. He just had to get over his doubts.

He couldn't do that with her doubting him.

"Okay." Cristina answered before she pressed her lips to his again. She balled the material of his shirt in his hand, the kiss deepening.

Their bodies began to gravitate towards each other's and he grinned against her lips. "I was trying to celebrate." He uttered softly, his hands grazing her sides. "Candles. Chinese. Beer. I was trying to celebrate your big thing."

"This is celebration too." She whispered against his ear before kissing right below it.

"I don't need an invitation." His arms wrapped around her waist and he easily lifted her petite frame into his arms with a slight growl.

Cristina laughed, her arms wrapping around him as he carried her into the bedroom. In that moment, she was sure he was fine. She was sure that she was just over thinking it all.

Four days would be okay.

Four days couldn't hurt anything.


	3. Chapter 3

There were a million reasons that he shouldn't be here, and he knew it.

He only needed one to show up.

Preston Burke looked out at the sea of people, mostly men, eagerly seeking her out. He had to know that she was okay. Obviously Dr. Yang had flourished, just as he had expected, but he needed to know that Cristina was okay.

He needed to know that the path he'd chosen in his life was for good reason.

The room seemed to slow down as he scanned, but she was nowhere to be found. He glanced back to the board with her name proudly displayed at the bottom of it. She had to be here. There had been no change in the schedule.

With a sigh, he continued about the room. After a few mindless handshakes and some idle conversation, he had decided to retreat from the mixer. He wasn't here to make friends or to mingle.

He pressed the button to the elevators with a little more force than he had intended. It arrived a few moments later and he moved onto it with only a strong drink in mind. As the doors began to slide closed he heard a female voice calling out for him to hold the elevator.

Making no effort to stop the elevator, he watched as a black boot kicked inside the closing doors and reversed their path. His eyes widened however, when the foot was attached to the one person he'd been looking for.

"Cristina," He breathed softly, looking at her.

Age hadn't touched her at all. Her long black tresses fell just below the middle of her back, slightly longer than the last time he'd seen her. She was still lithe, she still moved with a grace that took the breath from his chest.

She still looked like his Cristina.

Her deep brown eyes met his, but her face remained stoic. "Dr. Burke." She said, her voice unwavering. "I suspected that you would be here. Can you press the button for the top floor please?"

Burke remained unmoving, still watching her. He made no effort to raise his fingers to press the button. "How have you been?" He asked, his voice cracking slightly at the end of the sentence.

Reaching past him, she pressed the button herself and noticed as his eyes fixed on her bare outstretched finger. "You of all people should know better than to gauge whether or not I'm single by looking for something on my finger."

She cursed herself for looking at his.

"You can't blame me for being curious. Obviously you are too." He answered with a smug grin as the elevator lurched upward.

"Did you leave your ring at home for this little occasion?" She asked, referring to the small indentation in his finger where a ring had obviously resided.

"Divorced. Last month."

"I'm sorry to hear that." She answered flatly. It wasn't a surprise to her that yet another woman had failed to live up to his standards. At least she had a chance.

"I'm not. It was a poor choice on my part. She was a replacement and she couldn't possibly fill the shoes of the woman before her."

"Oh, so you're divorced times two." Cristina answered, her opinion of him sinking even lower. The elevator slowed to a stop and the doors slid open.

"On the contrary, I've only been married once." He answered, his finger resting upon the door open button. "She couldn't replace you."

Cristina scoffed, "Have you been practicing that line since you found out I'd been here?"

"Perhaps. Or maybe I had hoped that you wouldn't care enough to notice my missing ring."

She rolled her eyes, throwing her arm over the sensors to the door as he let go of the button. "Get off the elevator. Find your room. Find somebody else to talk to. This trip is purely business and I don't have time to entertain your nostalgia."

"You're still angry with me for something that happened years ago." He observed, unmoving.

"I'm not angry at you, I don't even care."

"Obviously you do, or you'd give me the time of day." Burke challenged. He knew exactly how to push her buttons after all these years.

"Will you just get off the damn elevator? I want to get to my room. It's been a long flight and I'm tired. I have people to call."

"What people? Grey?" He asked.

"People. It's none of your business." She muttered. She pushed a black curl behind her ear, eyes narrowed as she looked at him.

"You have somebody." He said, his heart sinking a little. Burke knew it was wrong for him to wish that she was alone. That hadn't been the reason he left her. He wanted her to find someone that got her better than he did, or better than he thought he had. He wanted her to be happy.

She looked anything but happy and he didn't think it all had to do with his presence.

"If I say yes will you go away?" She muttered, looking down.

"You're not married."

"I could be and you wouldn't know it. I told you that I don't do rings." Cristina retorted.

"You're not married because any man with half of a brain wouldn't let you go across the country without somehow marking his territory first. You're a beautiful woman Cristina, and any man worth your time would realize that."

"And you're wasting your breath. He knows that it takes more than a man leering at me to catch my attention."

Once again, the smug grin returned to his face. "I knew I was right."

"Ooh. Validation. Get off the elevator."

He considered staying to further irritate her. He still enjoyed getting a rise out of her. It wasn't any different than it had been so many years ago. Burke made his way to the doors of the elevator and paused to glance at her again. "You haven't changed an ounce." He murmured, "You're still beautiful. Still obviously driven. Whomever he is, he's a very lucky man. I hope he knows that."

Cristina looked down, masking her reaction to his words. She hated that they even affected her in the least. "He's a hell of a lot smarter than you ever were."

Burke's eyes softened slightly as he watched her and he smiled. "Good. I'm glad. I'm glad that you've found somebody who won't make the same mistake that I did."

Her fingers tightened around the handle of her bag, "He won't."

How could Owen possibly make the same mistake that Burke had when he wouldn't even attempt to propose?

Burke smiled faintly, his hand resting against the elevator door. He knew that he'd have more opportunity over the next four days. He could make his regrets known. He could tell her how wrong he was.

He'd at least have the chance to make up for what he'd done; a chance to explain himself. "It was good to see you, Cristina. I'm glad you're well."

"Likewise," She answered, finally finding the strength to look up at him again. She didn't mean it. She couldn't find it in herself to wish him well. Not after he left her, not after he sent his mother and most certainly not after he won the Harper Avery.

He dropped his hand to his side and watched as the elevator door slid shut and began it's journey to the top once more. Sadness weighed heavy on his heart and that weight became apparent on his shoulders.

For a few moments, he allowed himself to ponder what their life would have been like if he had just given it a chance, if he'd quit being so goddamn stubborn for just a moment. Leaving her was one of the biggest regrets that he'd ever had; it was the one thing that had weighed on the back of his mind relentlessly for years.

It was the one thing that he'd never let himself forget.

Pressing his lips together, he resolved to give her space for the evening. Nothing would grate on her nerves more than his feigned disinterest in her; nothing could possibly drive her as crazy as that. He knew he'd have to be precise in his actions to have his opportunity to speak with her, to _really_ talk to her.

There were a million reasons why he shouldn't be here in Boston, here at this conference. There were a million reasons why he should walk away now and never look back, but he couldn't. He could see the anger in her eyes, he could see the pain that he'd caused her so many years ago, but he also saw something more.

He saw an opportunity to make himself heard, to apologize, to explain himself. He saw an opportunity to set things right.

He saw the chance to get his heart back from the woman who'd held onto it for so many years.

Even if it meant finally letting her go forever.


	4. Chapter 4

Cristina could _feel_ him staring at her.

It was rude, what he was doing to her. She was giving a presentation, she was lecturing on saphenous vein grafting techniques and he was staring her down. What he was thinking about had only crossed her thoughts twice and both times it had caused her to take pause.

He didn't get the right to think of that anymore.

Burke didn't have the right to stare.

Her mouth felt dry and though it was a few minutes early, she decided to adjourn the group for lunch. She couldn't take anymore. Even if he wasn't thinking about those things, he was _staring_ at her. He was making it hard for her to think. He wasn't even supposed to be there and she wasn't supposed to care.

A lot of things were _supposed_ to be and they weren't.

Cristina's attempt at a quick exit failed miserably as she reached the doors and he was there already waiting for her.

Burke extended a bottle of water, confidence oozing from his expression. "You looked a little flustered up there, Dr. Yang. Perhaps the room is too warm? We can speak with the hotel staff about turning the temperature down."

She pulled the bottle from his hands wordlessly and walked past him, their bodies making far too much contact for her comfort. Twisting the cap off, she felt him easily catch up to her pace and sighed. "What? What do you want?"

"I want to talk to you."

"I have nothing to say to you." She answered evenly before taking a drink.

He smirked, "I didn't say that I wanted to listen to you. I said I wanted to talk to you."

"Obviously you haven't changed." Cristina said coolly, "You never were interested in what I had to say."

Burke felt as if he had been smacked, but he knew that she was telling the truth. Not listening to her is what had gotten him in this position in the first place. "Not listening to you is the greatest regret I have in my life." He murmured softly, "There isn't a day that goes by that I don't think about what I did wrong. There isn't a moment that passes that I don't think about what we should have had together and there isn't a second that I don't wish that I could take it all back. I would have made you happy. I would have listened. I would have told my mother that you weren't selfish or cold. My list of mistakes and regrets is miles long. The end…Cristina, that was my fault. Not yours. I know that I was wrong and I know that what I did is something that I can never apologize for. I hurt you and then I couldn't face you when I should have. I know that it's been years and that you don't think about it," He paused for a second to lick his lips, his mouth dry as he eased the words out that he's wanted to say for years, "But I am sorry. I'm so sorry."

Her feet felt like lead as she tried to continue walking, but she couldn't take another step. Her throat tightened and wetness grew in the corner of her eyes that she refused to acknowledge. "You're sorry." She repeated in a hollow voice.

"The word sorry doesn't even begin to do it justice." He nodded, his words sincere.

"You won the Harper Avery…everybody was praising the incredible work that you'd done, the cardiac autotransplantation that you _know_ that I basically did on my own…and you couldn't even _mention_ my name in the article? You couldn't thank me. You couldn't call me." Cristina fought back the years of emotion that threatened to break forth from the damn and she shook her head, "You walked away and you have _no_ idea what you did to me. But not even acknowledging me in that article, pretending as if I never existed…"

She couldn't finish her sentence, not without losing the precarious grip she had on her emotions. Walking away from him, she twisted the plastic bottle in her hands in a desperate attempt to occupy her mind with something else.

Burke watched as she walked away. He knew better than to chase her, knew better than to pursue her when she had new information to process.

She would need time, she would need space, but he knew- he _knew_ she would come around. He knew that with the information he'd provided her with that she would have to talk to him, that she would have to acknowledge it.

Even if it was just to tell him that she hated him for what he'd done to her.

He just had to give her time.

x-x-x-x-x

Cristina sat on the edge of her bed, wringing her hands as Burke's voice echoed through her head. She couldn't shut it off, no matter how much she wanted to, she couldn't make it stop.

He had regrets. He was sorry. He wishes he could do it over again.

It was words, they were all words and they didn't mean anything.

Except it was Burke admitting to her that he was wrong, and it meant everything. It was everything she'd ever wanted to hear from him. It was the one thing she'd waited years for him to say. She had wanted to know that he was suffering and that he was wrong and that he regretted the day that he ever walked away from her.

Cristina had just never thought about what she was going to do with that information once she had it.

Brushing a strand of hair from her face, she looked over at the clock. Owen was probably elbow deep in the abdomen of a bloody trauma and nowhere that he could take a phone call. Guilt slowly ate at her when she realized that it was eight in the evening and she'd only thought about him just now.

She'd been consumed with Burke the entire day.

No. She refused to let Burke do this to her, she refused to waste her days away from home thinking about the past. Thinking about _him_.

Laying back against the bed, she reached for her cell phone. After quickly dialing in the numbers, she waited for Owen to answer. She had hoped he would answer. She needed him to answer, to hear his voice.

Especially with the guilt.

Across the country, Owen peered into a case of simple diamond solitaires when his phone rang against his hip.

Of course she would call him now, of all the times for her to call. He pulled the phone from his clip and flipped it open, "I was beginning to wonder if you'd forgotten how to dial a phone." He teased in a low voice, turning away from the case.

Another twinge of guilt.

Cristina smirked into the phone, even if she didn't feel it. "Some of us are busy being cardio gods. " She quipped, "It's not my fault if the only thing a trauma surgeon is good for is lying around naked and entertaining the cardio gods."

"And sometimes even surgery."

She smiled again, except this time it was genuine. "How are you?" She asked in a soft voice, trying not to let too much concern seep into the question.

"I'm fine. I told you that I would be fine." He answered, already frustrated by her insinuation. "I haven't needed any_thing_."

"Good, that's good."

Owen sighed, leaning against the counter. The saleswoman cleared her throat and looked at him in disapproval . He raised his hand gently and straightened out once more. He uttered a soft apology to the woman.

Cristina's brow furrowed, "What are you doing? Who are you talking to?"

"Oh..uhm…just one of the interns." He said, his voice breaking. "It's been an exhausting day. A lot of patients. A lot of traumas."

"Really? Not a lot of hearts?" She teased softly.

"There were a lot of those too. The hospital is collapsing without you." He mocked her, turning around to glance at another bunch of rings. They were all far too big for her.

Nothing seemed to suit her.

"Shut up."

"I like it when you talk dirty to me, Dr. Yang. Keep it up." Owen grinned, pointing to a ring in the case for the saleswoman to pull.

"Find a call room and I'll talk even dirtier." She said, suggestiveness oozing into her tone.

It never took much for her to have an effect on him and now wasn't the time. He glanced over his shoulder in an automatic reflex, "As much as I would love to, I have patients to see. Another time. I'll call you, later."

"I'll be in bed," She reminded him with a sigh. "Four hours apart, remember?"

"Oh. Okay. Then I'll call tomorrow." He promised.

"Yeah. Tomorrow." She answered, trying to keep the disappointment out of her tone. After a short goodbye, devoid of three letter words- they knew it, they didn't need to say it- she hung up the phone and dropped it at her side.

Cristina had known that coming to Boston was a bad idea, but she had done it anyway. Now she was stuck in a town with her ex fiancée, her boyfriend across the country and too busy to carry on a phone conversation more than five minutes long and absolutely nothing to do on a Friday night at eight.

She knew it was dangerous to go to the bar. There was a strong possibility that Burke would be there and he'd try to talk to her again. He'd make her think about all the things she didn't wanted and she wasn't sure she was in the mood for it.

Maybe he'd said his peace though. Maybe he'd leave her alone.

After a long debate with herself, she pushed herself off the bed and walked towards the door.

The risk of Burke opening his mouth and rattling off whatever regrets he may or may not have was a hell of a lot less hazardous to her sanity than lying in her room and thinking about the things he had said.

For Cristina, thinking was always dangerous.


	5. Chapter 5

Cristina sat at the bar, longing for broken peanut shells to be scattered across it instead of a fine polish. Instead of piano music playing in the background, she tried to imagine rock and roll instead. She'd only been away from home for two days and already she missed it.

She didn't know what had happened to her.

The bartender placed another drink in front of her and she sipped the last bits of vodka from the bottom of her glass before reaching for the fresh drink. The bar was supposed to help her relax, the drinking was supposed to help her stop thinking.

It wasn't helping.

"Drinking alone. It's the first sign of an alcoholic." Burke teased in a humble voice from behind her.

Cristina knew better than to acknowledge him, let alone ask him to sit down, but she knew he wasn't going to go anywhere. "Then sit down, shut up and drink."

With a slight smirk, he sat next to her and glanced around. "This place isn't your taste."

"You don't know that, I could have changed."

"You're still drinking the same exact thing that you used to. I doubt that much has changed." He observed, gesturing towards her drink.

"I thought you were shutting up and drinking."

"I'm beginning to wonder if they even serve what I want here." He laughed softly, glancing around. "I think beer may be a little low brow for this place."

"They have imports." She answered. She had already asked herself. In the beginning, she had decided that beer would be a little gentler the next morning, but when she was presented with her choices she decided to take her chances.

"Maybe we should go somewhere a little more…welcoming." He offered, "As friends. Colleagues. Nothing else."

"We're not friends and we don't work together. And we'll never be anything." Her voice was flat and non-threatening. She didn't even care enough to put passion into the statement. That part of her life was long over and she was going to keep it that way.

"Then we go as two complete strangers who are tired of sitting in an overly pretentious bar." His voice was smooth, the tone almost soothing to her.

She had always loved the sound of his voice.

"I can't go with you." She mumbled, "I have a boyfriend. I have a life at home. I know what you're trying to do and I can't do that."

"The only thing I'm trying to do is talk to you. Nothing else."

Cristina sighed again, her fingers closing around her glass. "You swear you're not going to try anything."

Burke laughed softly, "I know that you're spoken for. The last thing I'd try to do is sleep with a woman who has already been claimed for. Even you."

"I don't know if I should be appreciative of that fact or highly offended." She muttered before taking a long drink. She told the bartender to put it on her tab and moved off of her seat without looking at him. She wasn't going to give him an invitation.

After making sure that he had taken care of her tab, he followed her to the front of the bar. "Perhaps a cab would be the best method of transportation?"

"We're not that far from the pier. Shouldn't there be some places there?" She questioned, not really wanting to confine herself to that small of a space with him.

"Then we can walk," He say, understanding her reasoning. Burke had amazed himself that even after all these years he could still understand her.

He wished that he had paid attention to that fact rather than try to change her so many years ago.

They started out in a painful and awkward silence towards the pier, their steps carefully plotted. They kept a fair distance away from each other, not wanting to even give the partial illusion that they were together.

Secretly, the silence was killing both of them.

"I thought..I should apologize. About the award. You had mentioned it. Earlier today. I just wanted to say that I tried. Believe it or not, I tried." He started out, "I had thought about sending flowers, but then I knew that you didn't do those. They weren't right. Then I thought about a card, but I know you're not sentimental. I wanted to call you, but I knew if I heard the sound of your voice that it would break me-"

"Break you?" She interrupted, "The sound of my voice would break you?" Like it wouldn't have done anything to her at all.

"I didn't want to stay away. In my own _very_ foolish way, I thought I was doing the right thing. If I heard your voice, if I had seen you, I would have lost my will power. An email wasn't enough, a phone call would have made it even harder. And then….then I decided that I had hurt you. That you had to be hurting, because I was. I decided that if I didn't say anything at all that you would _hate_ me. That somehow you hating me would make it all easier. So I said nothing."

Cristina remained quiet for a long moment before stopping at some railing and leaning against it. "It worked."

Her words hurt him, even though his mission was accomplished.

"Good," He murmured, standing next to her. He faced the opposite direction that she did, looking out at the water, watching as the waves gently rocked the boats. "I wish that I could say that I never meant to hurt you- but that moment changed a lot of things. I wish now that I could take it back."

"I wish that you wouldn't wish that." She mumbled.

"A man is allowed to have his regrets, Cristina."

"Yeah, well, his regret doesn't want to know about it. His regret has a life of her own and somebody waiting for her to come home."

Burke's fists tightened around the railing, "So you've said." He looked over at her, studying her closely. "Do you love him?"

"Of course I do." She answered without hesitation in her voice. "He's important to me."

He couldn't help but smile slightly at the fact that she couldn't say that she loved him. She really hadn't changed at all. His eyes turned back to the water, but he glanced at her from time to time. "Does he understand you?"

"We understand each other."

"Anna didn't understand me." Burke admitted softly, "At first it was a novel thing, the cooking together. The holding hands. The things that you wouldn't do. I had convinced myself that it was what I was looking for. A _wife_. She talked about children and houses, the things that you roll your eyes at. I lived with it, I played into it and months turned into two years. She started talking about when we were going to have a family, and I would find reasons that we couldn't discuss children. I pulled away from her when she got too close. I had to laugh at myself, because the only thing I could think was that it was how you must have felt when I was pushing a wedding."

"Karma." She said, not able to withhold a smile.

"That's the first time I've seen you smile this entire time. A real smile." He noted, a sad smile on his own lips. "I hope he makes you smile."

"He does."

"Have I heard of him?" Burke asked, curiosity getting the best of him. She had a history with heart surgeons and he was willing to lay odds that this one was no different.

Cristina didn't miss his intention, "He's not a heart surgeon."

"But he is a surgeon," He pressed.

"Trauma." She muttered, irritated by his grating curiosity.

Burke scoffed, "You're dating a glorified ER physician? I'm surprised that you even gave him a chance."

"He's not a glorified ER physican!" She argued, "He's a _trauma surgeon_. It's not like he handles earaches and overdoses."

"No, he does hack jobs of suturing patients and they end up in our care three days later with a raging infection."

"You're wrong." She said, shaking her head, "You don't know him. You don't know what he's capable of."

"I have an idea. There must be something about him that caught your attention. That's certainly not an easy thing to do." He quipped, rubbing his hands together.

Silence fell once more between them and Cristina pushed herself off of the railing and started wandering in the general direction of the dirtiest looking bar she could find. "Your wife sounds like a nurse."

"Nothing gets by you, does it?" He asked, not too surprised that she had figured it out on her own.

"No surgeon in their right mind talks about children and houses. We're too busy for that. We don't talk. We do. We do it and discuss it after the fact."

"I would beg to differ. We consider the consequences first; look at the risk and the benefit. Our decisions are precise."

"The point is, she's a nurse and that's beneath you." Cristina said, ultimately ending the conversation. "You should have known better than to date a nurse. That was your problem."

"The problem was that she wasn't you." He corrected her, gauging her reaction carefully.

She stopped dead in her tracks and spun to face him. "You said you weren't going to start with that crap."

"I'm not starting any _crap_, Cristina. I'm stating facts. If you want to pretend that we were never anything, that's your decision. I know differently and I feel differently. I have no qualms with admitting that I loved you, and I will not remain silent about that. I will not act as if it never happened. It doesn't mean that I'm trying to get you into bed or win you back." His eyes remained fixed with hers as he spoke in a hushed tone, emotion seeped into every word- maybe some disappointment, a dash of hurt, but mostly regret.

Cristina was really starting to believe that he truly regretted what he had done. She searched his eyes and she knew he needed some sort of validation, some sort of acknowledgment. Her own eyes softened a little and she sighed, "Yeah. I loved you too."

Burke dare not show an ounce of reaction to her words, but they surprised him monumentally. It was like her- to always keep him guessing. Reaching past her, he pulled open the door to the bar and gave her a slight nod.

She had left him speechless.

He followed her into the bar and took a seat next to her, both of them ordering a simple beer- just as they had wanted. The silence between them had somehow grown more comfortable over the past hour and neither felt like there was anything to say.

Perhaps it had already been said.

Idle conversation ensued at points- work, his parents, her mother, Meredith and Derek- and Burke found himself longing to go home again. The years he'd spent away from Seattle were not unbearable ones- but he never felt like he was where he belonged. He entertained the thought that perhaps he felt like that because he didn't have her, but he knew that having her was not an option.

Seattle however, was.

He spoke nothing of the idea to her, only listened as she spoke about Hahn's new preference for women that led to her departure. At this point, he had to stop her and laugh- never being one to picture Erica preferring women.

"I _knew_ you guys had a thing." Cristina interjected at one point, her suspicions finally confirmed.

Burke shrugged it off with a grin before he took a drink of his beer.

Their evening lasted longer than either one of them had suspected. When they parted ways for the evening, there was a sense of everything being _okay_ again.

Cristina settled into her bed, content with the evening's events and what had transpired. Seeing Burke again had crossed her mind several times, though not nearly as much as when she had found Owen. The thought always had a different ending, but nothing she had imagined was like this.

None of the endings were ones where she could imagine herself talking to him again.

None of them involved her thinking of what might have been.


	6. Chapter 6

The sun had been long settled and the stars hanging in the sky for hours when Cristina finally got home.

Quietly, she crept into their apartment and left her bags by the door. He was there, laying on the couch and waiting for her. She smiled softly, her eyes moving over the apartment. Everything was still in it's place, everything looked fine.

He was fine.

Carefully, she sat on the edge of the couch and put her hand over his, tightening her grip a little. She had learned long ago how to wake him. Leaning over she brushed her lips over his and then kissed him again, her lips placed a little more firmly on his.

Owen shifted beneath her and his palm turned upwards to grasp her hand. "I was beginning to wonder if you'd ever get home." He mumbled, his voice thick with sleep.

"My flight was delayed," She explained, lying next to him.

"I was begging to wonder if you forgot how to use a telephone too." He added, his tone soured.

"Hmm?" She asked, her finger tracing against his arm. "I called you."

"You called me once." Owen elaborated, "Once in four days."

Cristina furrowed her brow, thinking back to the trip. Surely she'd called him more than that. There was the first night she'd gone to the bar and then…

"Crap." She mumbled, "I'm sorry. I was really busy."

"Too busy to call me? Even at night?"

"There were people. We went out." She left out the minor detail that the only people who went out was her and Burke. Nothing she'd done in Boston with him was incriminating in the least, but she certainly didn't want to give Owen reason to suspect otherwise.

"Must have been a good time, you forgot me." He only half teased, opening one of his eyes to look at her.

"Shut up." She muttered, nudging him.

With a throaty laugh, he pulled her closer to him and kissed her forehead. His fingers found their way to her hair and tangled through the black tendrils slowly. It was unnerving to him how much he missed her after only four days. He'd come to a point in his life where he couldn't imagine living without her.

She was his everything.

Now he just had to find a way to tell her that.

Her eyes moved up over his face and she smiled, a dark gleam shining through her own eyes. She kissed him again, her hand coming to rest against his chest. She knew that it wasn't necessary, what she was doing- but she had missed him and she did love him.

Burke had just distracted her. He was a distraction.

Nothing more.

Their kiss deepened and she rolled over on top of him, her legs straddling his thighs. Slowly she began to work the buttons on his shirts until his hands came up to grasp her wrists. She pulls away looking down at him, "What?"

Owen opened his mouth to speak, but the words just wouldn't come. He wanted to tell her about the ring, wanted to tell her how much he missed her and how much he loved her, but the words were forever stuck in his throat.

He released one of her hands and brought it to his lips, kissing her fingertips, bringing her hand to his cheek.

After all the years they'd been together, words were still evasive when it came to her.

Cristina leaned over and kissed him again- tenderly, softly. A rare kiss that they shared, one pent up with too many emotions to count or acknowledge. Her fingers slowly stroked the scruff on his chin and pulled her lips back only slightly from his. "I love you too," She whispered softly.

He smiled widely, a small laugh escaping his lips and he pulled her closer to him, his arms wrapped around her. "It's been a long four days," He answered in return.

Her smile faded slightly, out of his view. His lips began to travel over her neck and his hands began to wander. Try as she might to fall into it, she couldn't keep a single thought out of her head.

For some reason, four days didn't seem very long to her.

x-x-x-x-x

The sun rose far too early for either one of them. They had a rare day off together and Cristina found herself not wanting to move. Her fingers traced lightly against his chest as she watched him doze. She knew that she could spend her life like this and nothing would ever be wrong. They were good together.

They understood each other.

"You realize that we should get out of bed at some point, right?" He asked in a deep voice.

"I don't see any reason to leave bed other than to pee." She smirked, her head resting against his shoulder.

He laughed softly, his hand softly stroking her lower back. "I think we have lots of reason to leave bed. We could go out today. Get some fresh air. It looks like it's going to be nice."

"It's sunny." She remarked, making a face.

"And a little sunshine never killed anyone, Yang."

"I almost died from it. Why do you think I moved away from California?" She replied sarcastically. "What do you want to do anyway? We've already done it all. Remember your last reconnaissance of Seattle? We were out for almost twenty four hours."

Owen grinned at the memory. _That_ was a day to never be forgotten. "And you said you couldn't hike."

"You carried me for at least a quarter of it." Cristina reminded him. "I don't do nature. I told you that."

"You didn't seem to mind doing nature when it involved little to no clothing and a tent in the middle of the woods."

"Well, we could do that again." She laughed. "But somehow, I don't think you have that planned."

He sat up and shrugged, "I guess you're going to have to get out of bed if you want to find out."

Cristina watched as he slid out of bed and walked across the room in nothing, her eyes delighting at the view. It was almost enough to drag her into the shower with him, but she abstained. She just wanted a few more minutes of sleep.

Her eyes drifted closed again and she thought about the conversation that Burke had, him asking if Owen made her smile. Asking a lot of questions about him- most of them she left unanswered.

He had the nerve to ask if she loved him.

She'd never stay with a man so long if she hadn't. Groaning, she threw her arm over her eyes and tried to forget about Burke. It was a onetime…okay, a five time thing where they talked and that was it. That's all there was to it. He was home and she was home and she'd never see him again.

Now she just had to get him out of her head.

It was unnerving, the way that his tone had ingrained itself into her head, the way his words reverberated in her brain. She wanted to shut it off, but it even seemed to find her in a state of half sleep.

Owen shook her gently to wake her and she stretched slightly, "Are you sure we can't stay in bed all day?" She grumbled.

"No," He said, his voice firm. "I want to do this for you. Get up. Get in the shower."

She made a face at him as she finally managed to pull herself out of bed. She shuffled towards the bathroom and closed the door behind her, leaving him alone in the room.

Once he was sure that she was going to stay put for a few moments, he went to his drawer and dug through it until he found a small velvet box. He wasn't sure if today was really the right day, but it seemed like a good enough day to do it. They had the entire day off to themselves.

He could take her for a picnic out by the lighthouse, they could walk for a while, just enjoy being together. Later in the evening, he could take her to her favorite restaurant and they'd dance- just like she loved, and maybe he'd do it then.

Owen gave himself a nod of approval. It would be perfect. They'd go dancing and in between two of her favorite songs, he'd drop to his knee. The image flashed through his mind and he smiled to himself, assured that it was perfect for her. She'd appreciate it.

As he tucked the box into his pocket, he wondered if maybe he should do it at home instead. She wasn't a fan of the whole public thing. He could play her favorite music at home; the evening would be more special. More intimate.

Maybe he'd do it at home instead.

He pulled the box from his pocket and put it back in the drawer and shut it.

Doing it at home was a much better idea.

When he walked out of the bedroom, Cristina stepped from the bathroom, her eyes fixated on the drawer. As much as she wanted to deny the fact that she'd seen what she had, she knew differently.

Owen was going to propose to her.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, she tugged at her towel a little bit. The thought of marrying him had crossed her mind before, and she'd always known that she'd say yes.

Except for now.

Now she was thinking about Burke and the things he said and she couldn't say yes to him while she was stuck with another man on her mind. She couldn't consciously think about all of the things she did in the past four days and accept his proposal.

It wasn't fair to him.

She pulled on some clothes and grabbed her pager from the bedside table before emerging from the bedroom.

Owen was there, pacing back and forth as she wanted and she forced a disappointed smile. "They need me at the hospital."

He stopped pacing and looked up at her, "Oh…okay. Maybe I'll go in then, too."

"No." She said abruptly, and then cleared her throat, "Don't go in. Maybe I can get in and out and we can still go out this evening. I want to see you. It's been four days."

A nervous smile crossed his lips and he nodded, "Yeah. Okay."

Cristina gave him a slight nod as well, "I'll try to hurry." She mumbled, the words far from a promise.

She left without a goodbye or a kiss, leaving him confused and alone in the apartment.

As she made her way across the street she could feel her heart pounding in her ears. Part of her had been waiting for this for such a long time. Part of her had wanted it more than she ever thought possible.

It's just that the other part of her was still back in Boston with Burke, thinking with everything that might have been. This was his fault and it made the part of her that wanted Owen angry. He was ruining her life again and he wasn't even _in_ it.

Work. Work was all she needed. She'd get in there, do a couple of surgeries and clear her head. It was all she needed to do.

Cristina just needed to get him out of her head.

She _had_ to get him out of her head and _soon_.


	7. Chapter 7

Author's Note

Okay, this starts with a shout-out to slybrunette at ga_fanfic, who wrote a story for herself. Thank you for feeling the same thing I was feeling all along. You give me inspiration to say this.

This story is a story I've wanted to write for a while, especially after reading all of the stories about Owen and Cristina and how Burke never really loved her and Owen is the greatest. It's not a great big secret that I strongly ship Burke and Cristina, but I love Owen too. They're two very different men that love Cristina in two very different ways. It doesn't make one or the other a jerk. While I greatly love and appreciate **any** comment that you, the reader, provide- know that I am writing this story for me. I am not writing it to appeal to the masses and I am not writing it to win popularity points. I am proud of it, I am excited to be the first person to write a story like this and I am so honored to be able to share it with you. If you don't feel that it's going to a place that you want it to go- I'm sorry, but this is a story I had to write. Stick with it. You may be surprised how it turns out. Maybe you won't be.

Either way, I hope you can enjoy it in spite of that. Thanks for reading in the past, thank you for continuing to read if you choose to. I enjoy the comments and do my best to reply to everybody. I will return to writing Owen/Cristina one shots after this but I will be working on the occasional Burke/Cristina as well for my fans who read those stories. -BN

x-x-x-x-x

So the first plan to propose hadn't gone so well for him.

Maybe the subsequent plans weren't good enough either. Tonight, though- tonight would be the night. They were going to Joe's to celebrate the hospital's elevation to it's rightful place as number one.

Tonight would be perfect.

With his hands jammed in his pocket, he wrapped his finger around the ring. He didn't want to do the whole opening the box thing. It was too cliché, too weak.

If he were to be truthful to himself, he knew that he'd rather produce a ring from his pocket rather than try to pry it from the box with shaking hands.

There were days that he longed for his before, the same cocky asshole that had strolled into Seattle Grace, that had kissed the sense out of Cristina, that played up being the hero. It would make what he was doing now that much easier.

He also knew that Owen probably wouldn't still be here. That Owen probably would have gotten killed on his fifth tour in Iraq, never able to get over the rush from saving lives. That Owen was horrible and pushed his luck far too much.

This Owen- he had bad days, but he had the most amazing woman in the world in his life. She completed him. She made him feel happy and whole and real, even if every moment he spent with her was intoxicating. Even if every time he touched her it felt like a fever dream.

Owen knew he was the lucky one.

Cristina laid her hand against his thigh under the bar, her slender fingers tracing just above his knee. "Are you okay?" She asked, concerned with his behavior. She knew what was coming and she had convinced herself that she was almost ready.

She could say yes and the other thoughts would fade away. They'd be replaced with the present. The past woudn't be there anymore.

"Yeah. Of course." He said, leaning forward to kiss her softly.

Their lips met and lingered together, fingers twined under the bar. She pulled away, smiling a little at him and butterflies growing in her stomach.

His palms were sweaty.

Cristina made no mention of it, only turned back to her drink. She kept trying to psych herself up for this, kept trying to remind herself that he would listen to what she wanted. They'd be married in a week, two tops. A ceremony at City Hall, Meredith and Shepherd and nobody else- a quick trip to Sonoma for the weekend for a honeymoon and back to work on Monday; there would be no fanfare, no invitations or dresses or ungodly flowers.

It would go completely unnoticed.

Her eyes fell to the bar, and she could understand why Burke didn't want to do the City Hall thing in that split second. Or at least she thought she could. She quickly pushed the thought aside as soon as it had occurred and cursed herself for even thinking it.

Owen.

She was thinking about Owen.

Owen's thumb stroked the back of her hand gently and he had decided he couldn't take it any longer. He couldn't wait anymore. He was going to do this. He was really going to do this. "Cristina.." He started, his voice cracking by the second syllable.

"Yeah?" She asked, finishing her vodka tonic with one large gulp. She knew she was going to need it.

With legs that threatened to buckle at the knees from his nerves, he carefully moved off of his barstool. With shaking hands placed on her hips, he turned her around so that he could actually be able to get down to his knee without hitting himself or doing something embarrassing to ruin the moment. He leaned forward and kissed her again, a little more passionately than he had kissed her a moment ago. "I need to ask you something."

"O-okay." She stammered a little, nerves creeping into her voice. Her eyes followed him as he dropped to one knee.

He pulled the ring from his pocket and held it out to her. It was a simple ring; a platinum band, seemingly held together by a slight diamond. Nothing flashy or overdone, nothing too big, but the ring was unique. Unique to him, because he felt like she was what held him together just as the diamond held the band together. It was the first thing that had come to his mind whenever he saw the ring.

It suited them and their story.

"This…this ring is long overdue." He said, his voice trembling. "I was broken and you put me back together. And you didn't use sutures or staples…well, there was stapling once." He paused and smiled when she laughed at his joke, and then finally found the footing to continue. "I know I'm supposed to have this big speech and I'm supposed to say these things that make you make those sounds, but…I don't. I don't have a speech. I have this ring, and I have these things that I want so badly. I have this future that I want to put together. But I need you in it. So…" He took her hand in his, holding it tightly, his hand with the ring trembling. "Cristina Yang, will you marry me?"

Cristina's lips parted to answer when she noticed the incredible stillness in the bar. She glanced around and saw all eyes focused on the two of them. Swallowing hard, she tried to focus on the question at hand when a bell over the door signaled the arrival of a new set of eyes. Her gaze traced over Owen's shoulder to see Burke standing just inside the door.

x-x-x-x-x

Seattle hadn't been as welcoming as he had thought it would be.

Despite it's reviews, he'd made the decision to take a position with Seattle Presbyterian, knowing that Cristina would probably never have a clue that he was there. If she did, she would never seek him out.

He could have his life in Seattle and she could have hers.

Which is why he knew better than to go to Joe's.

The man couldn't help himself when it came to her. His plan was simple. He was going to go in, glance around, tuck himself in a corner where he couldn't be seen and have a beer. He wanted to see her just one more time. He wanted to see the man who had stolen her heart.

He wanted to see her laugh. Really laugh.

Burke had tried to talk himself out going several times. He'd even taken a longer route getting there, but something told him to go. Something made him go.

The night air was particularly crisp, nothing like the muggy blanket that had encompassed New Orleans in the time he was there. He pulled his jacket more tightly around him as he walked towards the entrance of Joe's. He lingered in the shadows as he watched so many of his former colleagues shuffling into the bar after a long shift at the hospital.

He should have been among that throng.

They should have been walking together, he should have been shielding her from the bitter wind. He couldn't get the thoughts out of his head, what their life would have been like. Being in Seattle, living in that particular moment made those thoughts even stronger than ever.

It was so clear to him, what they would look like. The way his arm would be wrapped securely around her shoulder, his fingers weaving softly through her curls, even the way her cheeks would be slightly reddened from the bitter wind.

Burke wondered if he'd ever stop living his life in regret.

As the traffic finally cleared, he made his way towards the entrance of the bar with his head down. He didn't have to wonder to himself when he started walking with sagging shoulders, with his head hung low and eyes focused on the ground.

He used to be a man with his head held high, pride surging through every artery and vein, pulsating with every beat of his heart.

His heart stopped beating the moment he walked away from Cristina; the pride slowed into his veins, settled into clumps of self-loathing and doubt and then rotted inside him, eating away until there was nothing left.

Burke was a shell of what he used to be, but nobody knew it. He had surrounded himself with people that wouldn't have known the difference- it was just thought that he was detached, aloof, complacent.

Nobody had an inkling of an idea that he was broken.

When he pushed the door open, the bell overhead seemed to pierce a silence that hung over Joe's. He furrowed his brow in confusion at how quiet it seemed to be despite the crowd. He scanned the bar, looking to see what had silenced so many people.

He wished he hadn't of.

x-x-x-x-x

Cristina stood in silence for a long moment, her eyes locked with Burke's. What the hell was he doing here? What was he doing in Seattle? Why the hell did he have to pick now of all times to show up. She was busy getting proposed to.

Her lips parted slightly, inhaling a dose of stale atmosphere that nearly choked her.

Owen saw the color drain from her face and he felt the nerves drawing even more strength inside him. Maybe this wasn't the right place or the right time. "Cristina," He said softly, tightening his grip on her hand.

The sudden increase in pressure on her hand drew her back to reality only partially and she glanced down at him. "Yeah." She said, her typical response to any person saying her name.

He took it as an answer.

Within moments, there was a ring on her finger and she was in his arms and he was holding her tightly. Owen whispered 'I love you' over and over again in her ear, his heart pounding out of his chest and into hers. Excitement pumped through his veins. He'd done it. He'd finally done it.

Cristina didn't realize what she'd done until it was too late.

It wasn't like she wasn't going to say yes. But in that moment, so quickly, in front of all those people—

In front of him.

She finally came to her senses and her hands gripped his shoulders tightly from behind as Owen held her, but her eyes remained fixed on Burke's. The sound had picked back up in Joe's, almost had become a deafening roar in the aftermath and people had surrounded them calling out their congratulations.

Cristina couldn't hear anything. She couldn't feel anything.

The only other person in that room with her, in that moment with her was not the man it should have been.

It was Burke.


	8. Chapter 8

It took a few moments for Cristina to gather herself, but her gaze rarely left Burke in that time. With her arms wrapped around her apparently new fiancée, she pointed to a corner of the bar and gave him a look that told him had better get there or else.

Burke did just as she had silently commanded to.

Meredith was a silent witness to it all and made her way towards Cristina with some trepidation. She took hold of Cristina's arm with a slight grin, a mixture of drunk and forced. "She was mine first, Hunt." She remarked dryly, drawing a laugh from the man.

"You can have her for a minute, but I want her back." Owen smiled genuinely, not letting her go without kissing her first.

Casually, Meredith glanced over her shoulder at Burke as he sunk into the shadows taking all of it in. She couldn't help but feel sorry for him in that moment. She felt Cristina's hand press hard into the small of her back and towards his direction.

"Y'know, he's got _really_ bad timing." Meredith couldn't help but say with a slight chuckle.

"Shut up." Cristina muttered. "You…you have to keep him busy. Just for a few minutes."

"You want me to keep Burke busy for a few minutes? What the hell am I-"

"Not Burke." Cristina said quietly, glancing over her shoulder.

"Cristi-" Meredith started again.

"Not _now_, Mer."

"Bu-"

"Meredith." Cristina looked at her, eyes pleading for her to just _shut up_ and let her do this.

She finally relented, hand dropping to her side. "Fine, but I want the story later. The _whole_ story."

Cristina didn't acknowledge her, only made her way towards the man that had haunted her thoughts relentlessly for the past weeks. Her eyes remained fixed on his and she felt her breath almost slow completely when she found herself standing in front of him.

A sad smile traced over his lips, words left unspoken tracing the deep coffee color of his eyes. "I suppose that congratulations are in order," He spoke, his voice low and humble.

"Don't," She murmured softly, "I…" She tried to find words to ask him what he was doing there, why he had to choose _that_ moment to show up.

Again.

Sensing her hesitation, he spoke for her. "I live here. I took a job at Seattle Presbyterian." He cleared his throat, looking down at the ground. "It's the only place that feels like home."

"You can't be here, Burke." She whispered, the words almost lost in the steady drone of the crowd.

"I'm not here to interfere. You won't even know that I'm in the same city." Burke assured her, though every word tore at his heart, nicking away at little pieces of dead muscle.

"But you're-"

"I just wanted to make sure that you were okay. That you were happy." He answered before she could even point out his current location.

Burke wanted to make sure that he was doing the right thing. That she wasn't compromising _anything_. He needed to know that this person she'd found, that he understood her, that he loved her and could make her smile.

Cristina didn't answer his question, only turn it around on him. "Are you okay?" She asked, a question to which she already knew the answer. She could see how much he was hurting, but she didn't know if it was from what he had walked in on or something completely different.

Her instincts told her that it was a little bit of both.

He smiled weakly, taking note of the simple ring on her finger. He wanted to nod, but he couldn't even find the energy to assure her that much. "I think everything is as it should be."

It was a safe answer. Probably the truth, probably what she needed to hear in order to be able to walk away from him and go back to the man who had her now. He didn't deserve to be happy or whole, didn't deserve to have her in his life- he had done this to himself and now she was moving on and moving forward.

She murmured his name softly, her hand absently reaching out to brush his arm. He had caused her so much pain in her life, but it didn't mean that she wanted to see him in it.

Cristina wouldn't wish the things that she'd felt on anybody else, least of all the man who did it to her.

Meredith watched discreetly from behind Owen as Cristina spoke with Burke and she shook her head. Whatever he was doing here, it could not be good. It's not like he was in the corner trying to kiss her or confessing his love- no, what he was doing was much more dangerous.

Alex joined the small group at the bar, ordering a beer for himself and some fruity drink for his flavor of the week. He muttered something about stupid rings and too many people falling into the same damn trap over and over again- bitterness lacing his tone from his own previous lost loves, but then he noticed that Meredith wasn't even listening to him. "Dude, wake up and smell the bar nuts. Or mine. Which ever one you want."

"Shut up," She said, pushing away the hand he was waving in front of her face.

"What the hell are you staring at?" He asked, looking over towards the corner where her gaze was fixated. He snorted when he saw Burke standing in the corner and Cristina standing in front of him. "I've got fifty on Yang kicking his ass."

Owen's ears perked up at the mention of Cristina and looked over at the source. "Yang is kicking _who's_ ass, Karev?"

He nodded towards the corner "Bur-" He started, but felt a sharp pain in his side from Meredith's bony elbow. "What the hell, man!" He snapped at her, rubbing his side, "That is not cool."

Meredith narrowed her eyes at him and then tried to focus on the task at hand, "Cristina isn't kicking anybody's ass. She just needed a minute."

Owen crossed his arms over his chest, looking the two of them down. Meredith reached for her drink, taking a large gulp of it to maintain the heavy silence that had formed over the trio.

Alex, bored with the night's events thus far had made the decision that he'd rather see some action. "It's Preston Burke. The ass who-"

"Left her." Owen finished the sentence, uncrossing his arms and making a break away from the group.

Meredith grabbed onto his arm to slow him down, but he easily pulled it away. She followed after him, repeating his name in a frantic string. Cristina was so going to kill her. Meredith was going to kill Alex. Owen was going to kill Burke.

The night that was supposed to be a good one was quickly turning into a very _very_ bad one instead.

Cristina stood with Burke in a deafening silence, her eyes fixed on his. There was so much that they could never outright say to each other. So many things that they meant to say, or had promised themselves that they'd tell the other but they simply didn't.

She found herself wondering as she stood before him that it was simply because they didn't need to say the words.

They already _knew_.

Her lips had only slightly parted to excuse herself from the situation when Owen chose to end it for them.

Burke staggered backwards as an explosion of pain ripped through his jaw and he put his hand up to defend himself against whatever or whomever it was that hit him.

"Owen!" Cristina snapped, throwing herself in between the two of the man, her back pressed into Burke's body. "What the hell do you think you're doing?!"

Owen stood motionless, his fists clenched as he looked at the two of them. His chest rose and fell heavily, his face reddened in anger. This was _his_ night, and of all the nights for this jackass to show up- it was his night.

_Their_ night.

His eyes remained fixed on Burke, anger burning through his veins in a way that it hadn't in years. "Get the hell out." His voice was guttural, a near growl.

"Owen!" Cristina snapped again, her body still shielding Burke's. She had always wondered if he was joking when he had said that if he ever had the opportunity to meet the man who had left her that he was going to make him regret it.

Now she knew.

It wasn't nearly as satisfying as she once thought it would be.

Burke stood behind Cristina, still stunned from the sudden blow. He reached up to rub his jaw and felt wetness along jawline. He was bleeding.

"Didn't you hear me?" Owen asked angrily, "I said get the hell away from her. Get out."

"Ow-" Cristina started, but felt Burke's hand on her arm.

"Cristina. I'm going." He said softly. His hand dropped to his side and he brushed past the two of them and towards the front door.

She watched as he made his way through the crowd, people murmuring his name and hers- words of a wedding left unfinished starting to stir quickly. Her lips parted as she watched him and she shook her head softly.

"Cristina," Owen said, holding his hand out for hers. She looked distraught and he hated that this man had come and taken away their night. It was supposed to be perfect.

Her eyes looked over at his in disbelief and she kept her hand at her side. She walked away from him and moved quickly towards the front door to check on Burke.

Owen would be there when she was done.

Burke was leaning against the brick wall outside of the bar, his eyes closed as he tried to ignore the throbbing in his jaw. He'd take just a minute and then he'd leave- he'd go back to his empty apartment, go back to his meaningless job and the void that was his life.

He just needed a minute.

Footsteps, however, interrupted that minute.

He opened his eyes to see Cristina rushing towards him. "Are you okay?" She asked quietly, raising her hand to examine the damage Owen had left behind.

Burke brushed her hand away, "I'm fine."

She grabbed his wrist, her eyes penetrating his. "Shut up and let me look at it."

His arm went limp in her hand and he turned his head to the side. With her hand placed just under his chin, she examined the skin split along his jawline. "You need stitches," She murmured softly. Blood oozed continuously from the site and she shuffled through her pockets of her pants trying to find anything she could to catch it. The only thing she had was a candy bar wrapper and a receipt from the coffee cart.

It was better than nothing.

"Here," She said, raising the receipt to his chin to catch some of the oozing blood. "It's not gauze, but it will work until we can get you across the street."

"We are not going anywhere," He said, replacing her hand with his own. "You are going inside to your fiancée. I can take care of myself."

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry he hit you." Cristina sighed, "Just let me walk you across the street and then I'll come back."

"I remember how to get there just fine, Cristina." He said coldly. Coming to Joe's was a bad idea. He knew it was a bad idea. He should have never even come to Seattle.

He should have had more control.

"Hey." She said, her hand on his cheek drawing his gaze to meet hers. "You came to make sure I was okay. Now shut up and let me make sure you're okay."

Burke couldn't fight her, he couldn't say no to her. He only pulled himself away from the wall and walked in the direction of the hospital.

Cristina stayed at his side, resisting the urge to put her hand against the back of his arm, to touch him somehow as they walked. She didn't question why she wanted to do it, he had been hurt. It was just a pity thing or a comfort thing or something. It wasn't feelings or anything like that.

They both knew that.

"Your fiancée packs quite a punch." He tried to make light conversation in the face of everything else.

"Owen. His name is Owen. And he was in the military. I think they teach them how to do that crap. Kill a man with their pinky and all of that." She said, a slight smile tracing her lips.

"Then I suppose that I should be thankful that he didn't come at me with his pinky." With a small smirk that caused him to wince only moments later.

The slight beginnings of a laugh escaped Cristina's lips, then a chuckle until she was fully laughing. The mental image in her head of Owen chasing Burke around with a very prominent pinky was a stupid one- but one that was entertaining nonetheless.

He smiled at the sound of her laughter as much as he could. It was all that he'd wanted to hear, wanted to see. "You find the idea of me dying by another man's pinky entertaining?" He asked as they finally made it into the hospital parking lot.

Before Cristina could answer, a siren broke through their conversation and she put her hand in front of him to stop him from walking. It was close. She glanced over her shoulder and across the parking lot to see Owen emerging from the bar at a quick pace. "Trauma." She answered, "C'mon. Let's get you inside. It looks like you're going to have to deal with me stitching you up."

"How do you know it's a trauma? It could be a code." Burke questioned as they picked up their pace towards the sliding glass doors.

"Because Owen is about a hundred feet behind us." She answered softly as they got to the doors, "Trauma surgeon."

"Oh. Right." Burke answered, pausing to glance back. "You're sure that he's not coming at me with his pinky?"

Cristina smiled and pushed him towards the door. "Shut up and get inside. I'll be right behind you."

Burke walked through the doors, leaving her outside to wait for Owen. He didn't bother glancing back at the two of them or lingering by the door.

He knew that they would need their space for a minute.

As Owen neared the doors, he showed no sign of slowing and she put her hand out. "Owen." She said, her voice firm, "Owen, talk to me."

"Not now, I have a trauma rolling in." He wouldn't look at her, but she knew that she had hurt him by following Burke outside.

The last thing she'd ever want to do is hurt him.

"I can walk and talk at the same time. You have to change." She said, determination in her voice. She wasn't going to let this go to fester for hours.

It almost felt as if they were running through the halls towards the locker room, and Cristina knew that the need wasn't really there to do so. The ER physician would be able to provide any initial interventions outside of cutting and the patient would have to have films for evaluation, fluids, venous access. She had time.

She followed him into the locker room unabashedly, watching as he pulled his shirt off. "I couldn't let him sit out there and bleed in the alley." Cristina finally said. "He's bleeding. You did a job on him."

"Good." Owen muttered, pulling a set of fresh scrubs from a nearby rack.

"You shouldn't have hit him."

"You shouldn't have followed him."

Cristina nodded, her arms wrapped around herself. "You don't know why he was there. Why he's here. It's not what you think."

Owen stopped to look at her incredulously, "I don't need to think anything. I've never hid my intentions when it came to what would happen to him if I had the opportunity."

"He apologized." She admitted, averting her gaze.

"And that makes it excusable, what he did to you?" He asked, his voice rising slightly.

She glared at him for a long moment, "I don't know. Did it make it excusable when you saw Beth? Is it only excusable when you do it?"

He fell silent, moving his eyes to meet hers. "I had my reasons."

"And so did Burke. Good or bad, you both had reasons. He apologized. I accepted it. That's all that matters." Her voice was soft, but commanding at the same time. She knew it wasn't the best idea to bring up his ex-fiancée and that entire fiasco, but it was the only thing she had.

"When?" He asked, reaching for his top without breaking their gaze.

She sighed, "When, _what_, Owen?"

"When did he apologize? When did you talk to him? Why am I hearing about this now? It certainly wasn't tonight. If he had apologized tonight, you wouldn't be defending him."

Cristina's eyes immediately dropped to the floor and the guilt was written all over her body language. She murmured a barely audible 'Boston' without looking at him.

Owen shook his head in disbelief. "You didn't _call_ me."

"I called you."

"Once in four days. You were in a completely different city with a different man and you didn't even _call_ me." He said, slamming his locker door. "What the hell were you thinking?"

She shook her head, "Owen, nothing happened. Nothing happened. We talked. That was it. He told me that he had regretted it and that he was sorry. He answered my questions. There was nothing else. There's nothing there. I love _you_. I am choosing to be with _you. _I am marrying _you._"

"Are you?"

"I'm wearing the ring aren't I?" Cristina asked, stepping closer to him.

Owen was quiet, watching as she approached him. He didn't know what else to say to her. He'd never thought that she'd hurt him like this.

He didn't even really know if he had a good reason to be hurt.

Cristina reached out with her left hand, the ring securely in place, and she laid it against his bared chest. Her face, her lips was only a few inches from his and she uttered his name softly. "I am marrying _you._" She repeated in a voice above a whisper. "Burke…Burke was closure. It was what I wanted to hear. It was what I _needed_ to hear."

His arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her even closer to him. "It was only closure." It was more of a statement to reassure himself, rather than a question.

He knew that Cristina would never do that. She wasn't that type of person. He should have known better than to even insinuate it.

"It was only closure," She whispered one more time before she pressed their lips together. Her free hand wrapped around the back of his neck, and she pushed every last ounce of emotion into the kiss.

It quickly became heated and she found her back against the lockers, his hand grasping her ass tightly. His fingers found her curls and he closed his fist around a clump of them, tugging slightly as he kissed her.

Owen found himself hoping that the trauma was non-surgical so he could take her home and lay claim to her body. The patient, however, had other plans for him. He groaned softly against her neck as his pager sounded on the bench behind him. Reluctantly, he pulled away to see that they had assigned an OR and that they'd need him to come assess the films before prepping the patient.

Cristina rested her head back against the locker doors, fighting to catch her breath, trying to get the redness to leave her cheeks. "You have to go?" She finally managed to get out.

"Yeah. Abdomen full of blood." He sighed, pulling his shirt on. "Are you going home?"

She looked at him and cleared her throat a little. "He needs films and sutures. I'm staying."

He looked at her for a long moment, not sure what to say to her. He didn't want to let her do it, but he know that he couldn't tell her no either. Maybe she felt like she owed it to Burke since he'd been the one to do the damage. "Alright." He finally spoke.

Reaching up, she kissed him one more time before leaving him in the locker room to finish changing.

In their time together, Cristina had never lied to Owen. She may have been difficult to talk to, she may have held onto information a little bit longer than she should have, but she had never outright lied to him.

Until tonight.

He thought that Burke's apology was closure, that it was what she needed to move forward and to never look back.

In truth his apology clouded her mind. It had opened up memories that spent years being repressed and tucked away. It had made apparent to her that no matter how much she didn't want to, she would always love him. Not in the same way as Owen, and maybe not as much as Owen- but there was always going to be a place in her heart for Burke.

Even if she didn't want it to be there.


	9. Chapter 9

Cristina couldn't keep her mind off the fact that he was _in_ Seattle. He was constantly within a twenty mile radius of her. He was always a short drive away. He was always _there_, even though she couldn't see him, she was surrounded by him.

She did her best to hide the distraction around Owen, and most times it would work. He would ask what she was thinking about and she would dismiss it by kissing him, touching him, pulling him inside her until he fucked the distraction right out of here. Sometimes she would make up a story about a patient at work or some budget issue.

It never ceased to amaze her how one lie started it all, and then they just kept coming. She had convinced herself that she was protecting him, though. What he didn't know couldn't possibly hurt him.

Not hurting him was the most important thing to her. Nothing else.

Sitting by the window with a journal in her lap, she watched as the rain fell steadily, her mind once again wandering. She remembered the night that she had been studying for her intern exam and he had decided to interrupt her. Sometimes, if she thought about it enough, he can remember the exact way that he touched her. What his breath felt like, tickling her shoulder as low groans and grunts emitted from his lips as he drove inside her- hard, exactly how she liked it, but with this conveyance of love and need. She felt her cheeks grow warm and an ache grow between her legs just thinking about it and she sighed, trying to focus on the journal.

These thoughts needed to stop. She wanted them to stop.

She just didn't know how to shut them off.

"You've got that look again." Owen said from the doorway.

Cristina didn't even flinch. He would often creep into a room while she wasn't paying attention and just watch her. She was used to it. At first she found it a little disturbing; now she found it comforting. She found it charming. It was one of the things that she loved about him. She turned to look at him, a small smile on her lips. "It's called thinking. I know you're not familiar with it."

"If it were tangible, you'd be having an affair with it." He joked, and then nearly recoiled at his own joke.

She didn't even miss a beat, wanting to bypass that topic completely. Her eyes traced over his body and she let a grin spread over her face, "I'll think I'll be fine with what I have."

With a slight smirk, he lowered his head as he approached her. Their eyes met and she moved the journal from her lap. In an instant, she was reminded of the time that they were walking towards each other in the hall, long before they'd ever even thought of sleeping together. Even then, his eyes would drive her crazy.

Today was no exception.

Cristina leaned back on her palms, watching him with a coy grin on her face, her legs spread just enough to tease him. "You've got that look on your face."

"It's called thinking." He uttered, dropping to his knees between her legs. His hands slowly slid up her thighs, his thumb tracing just along the inside of them.

She leaned forward to kiss him, but he pulled away. "Tell me what you're thinking about." She murmured.

His thumbs met at her center and he rubbed her just gently through her jeans. He smirked at the way her pink lips parted, a small moan emitting itself from her lips. Slowing his thumbs, but leaving them in place, he watched her carefully. "I ask you the same question all the time." He uttered, his voice low and husky.

"And I tell you," Cristina answered, leaning forward to try and kiss him again. Again, he pulled back and she looked at him with a small grin. She wasn't sure what this game was, but she kind of liked it.

Pulling one hand from her center, he raised his hand to brush her hair from her shoulders and began to spread hot kisses against her neck. He nipped softly at the skin, leaving red marks against the porcelain perfection. He moved his cheek against her collarbone, eliciting a soft whimper. He knew _exactly_ how to drive her crazy. His lips moved up and over to the other side of her neck, finally brushing against her ear, "I know you think about him." He whispered into her ear. "I know that look in your eyes."

Suddenly the feeling of arousal that Cristina had been feeling only precious seconds ago had dried up and ice pumped through her veins. "No," She murmured after a long pause. "Don't stop,"

Owen pulled her more closely, placing a gentle kiss below her ear. "Why did your body tense when I said it."

"Because you stopped."

"Cristina," He sighed into her black curls.

"Owen. Now that we know each other, do you want to continue what it was that you were doing?" She asked, her hands resting on his shoulders. She would do everything in her power to avoid this conversation.

She bent and kissed his neck softly, kissed under his ear just as he had to her. It wasn't often that she enjoyed giving possession of herself over to somebody- she wasn't an object, but she knew that it was absolutely necessary right now. "You know that I belong to you," Cristina whispered into his ear. "Only you."

He pulled back to look into her eyes, the words driving him crazy. "All of you?"

Cristina finally captured his lips with hers and she kissed him hard, desperately, wanting nothing more than to silence his words. She knew that it was their downfall; she'd always turn to sex to avoid a topic before actually talking about it. It was a good way to keep him distracted and it was the only way she'd ever really stop thinking for the most part.

Owen kissed her fiercely, taking the very breath from her body as he pulled at her shirt. He was going to make his mark on her. He was going to make her say it, make himself believe it. At least he knew she wasn't thinking of him right now.

Or at least he thought he did.

She tore at his shirt, finally freeing his body of it and she scratched her nails up his back, leaving red streaks. She whimpered loudly as he bit and sucked the flesh of her neck and shoulder hard, drawing hard pangs of desire from within her that curled her toes into the hardwood floor.

He raised her hips, removed her pants and her panties in one go. His hands wandered, his lips continued to leave their mark all over her skin. She was _his_. Her heart was his. Her body was his. Her mind was his. She wanted _him_.

Owen had never been the type of man who needed assurance, let alone reassurance- yet now, even though she was wearing his ring, he felt a constant internal struggle. It was always at the forefront of his mind that there was a chance that they would never come to pass.

The thought of losing her was one that was unbearable to him.

His hand dropped between her legs, thrusting two fingers deep and hard inside her without preamble. He kissed her roughly, his tongue sweeping into her mouth and claiming her cries. It wasn't healthy, the way they worked their problems out, and he knew it, but she was here.

That's what was important.

Cristina's hips moved hard into his hand, eagerly seeking out her release. Her fingers dragged down his chest and she latched on there, her fingernails digging into his skin once more as she felt herself starting to slip.

Owen's thumb slid away from her clit and ended her feeling just as quickly. "Not yet." He said roughly, feeling her tremor slightly around his finger. He wanted her to beg, he needed that power tonight.

He needed her to need him.

She whimpered his name, begging him to touch her again, begging for her release. She laid back against the window seat as he crawled over her, his fingers never stopping their movements.

He kissed her tenderly for a brief moment and then pulled away, "Promise me."

Her ragged breath was mixed with soft whimpers as she looked up at him. A soft sheen had already formed over her skin and everything about the situation was completely overwhelming. She couldn't think, couldn't move. She only needed him right now, nothing else.

"Forever." She murmured.

Smiling, he dipped his head to kiss her again as his thumb pressed ruthlessly against her clit. When he felt her clench around his fingers he quickly withdrew them and thrust into her fully. The feeling over her walls tightened around him was exquisite and he cried out with her.

They rocked together, hard, desperate, rough. Each wanting to just live in the moment and forget about everything else, each wanting to let go of something or somebody and just _be_.

Two people in love.

Two hearts pounding together.

Two halves made whole.

_Cristina and Owen_.

When they collapsed in each other's arms, each completely spent they closed their eyes and just took in the moment. Cristina's fingers traced idly against his ribs, feeling as it rose and fell- heavy and first and then more softly, more subtly. The sound of rain pounded outside the window, leaving them in a comfortable silence.

They may have noticed at one point or another that they were lying on the floor, their clothes strewn about, but neither one bothered to make mention of it. They were in each other's arms and despite lacking the romanticism that other couples oft possessed, they were content to be in that moment.

Cristina rested her head against Owen's shoulder as his fingers tangled through her damp curls and she closed her eyes. She wasn't sure if it was her heart or his pounding in her ear, but it was a soothing sound to her. One that somehow infused her with the strength to finally say what she needed to. "I'm trying." She murmured without looking at him, "But I will _never_ hurt you. I will _never_ leave you. Ever."

Owen made no move, made no effort to look down at her. He could tell by the sound of her voice that her words were genuine and her promise true. At least she was telling him the truth, even if it may have stung just a little that she thought of him so often.

They'd never spoke of what the relationship had been like before the wedding, only the wedding, only her after.

His arms closed around her more tightly and he held her close. Perhaps things weren't perfect, maybe they were even a little rocky, but he knew that they would get better.

She was his, she had said so herself.

The rest would come with time.


	10. Chapter 10

Owen had considered his life significantly improved after that afternoon in their apartment. He no longer had to wonder what the wistful gazes were for, he knew.

He'd also become a master at dissolving those gazes.

Preston Burke was mere moments away from being forgotten forever, just as he should be.

He step felt lighter as he made his way to the telemetry wing, coffee in hand for Cristina. He asked around and the nurses looked at him with bewildered gazes. Like they knew something that he didn't. He held up his hands in apology and left the unit, deciding she must be scrubbed in on an emergent procedure.

As he glanced over the board, he took note that she was in OR1 and decided to head up to the gallery to see what she was up to. The procedure was a complex one and he wasn't aware of her ever doing one as long as he'd been here, but there were days not so long ago that he wouldn't have known the difference.

People seemed to start whispering more as he stepped into the gallery. He shifted nervously, feeling all eyes on him and he finally glanced up at them. In unison, a large gathering of surgeons turned their head back towards the surgery. He looked down into the gallery himself to see Cristina frantically working to clear her surgical field. The patient was stable, but just barely.

She almost looked unfocused.

His eyes traced to the other person across the table from her, working just as frantically to keep the patient alive and he narrowed his eyes. "Who is that?" He asked, "That's not Thompson is it?"

No, Thompson was shorter.

His fist clenched in his pocket and he dropped the coffee in the trash when the realization came to him as to who it was.

Now he only needed to know what the hell he was doing operating with _his_ fiancée. What the hell he was doing in the city, he was supposed to have been gone. He was supposed to go home and never show his face again.

They were moving on.

Suddenly the feelings that he had of everything moving forward slipped from his grasp and he found himself staring into the eyes of disappointment and doubt once more.

This man would never quit.

x-x-x-x-x

Cristina frantically suctioned around the chest cavity, but the blood just kept coming. She'd never felt so out of control in her life. It was driving her crazy. "Hang another two units. Rapid infuser. Type and cross six more. Change the suction canister, I'm losing suction. And send for more units of FFP too. No. Scratch that. Reheparinize. What's my pressure?"

"Cristina." Burke said evenly, working just as steadily as she was.

"Not now, I'm trying to think." She said, bending her head to hear the nurse mumble a low pressure, "Start him on a low dose of neosynephrine. Titrate to keep MAP greater than 65. I swear to God, Collins if you blow my patient's kidneys while I'm-"

"_Cristina."_ Burke said again, more forcefully.

She jerked her head up to look at him, suction still in place. "What?!" She snapped. "I'm trying to save a life here, Burke. If I had known that you were going to sit here and patronize me while I'm work-"

"Look at me." He said evenly, his gaze leveling on hers.

"Burke, I don't have-"

"Look. At me." He repeated.

She carefully moved her suction catheter around the outside of the chest wall, looking at him just as he had asked. Never mind the fact that her patient had dissected his thoracic aorta in the middle of a routine procedure. Never mind the fact that she had already been in surgery for nine hours with no hope of getting out anytime soon and certainly not with a living patient.

No.

She would stare at him just like he'd asked her to so she could blame it on him when the patient died.

"Good." He murmured, "Good. Now tell me what's wrong with the patient."

"He's dissecting his thoracic aorta, where the hell have you been??"

"Okay. So you're replacing lost blood. You're monitoring pressures and you're suctioning out everything he's losing?" Burke questioned.

"Don't tell me how to treat a thoracic aorta. I may have never done one, but I know what the interventions are." She answered indignantly.

"And when do you plan on repairing the tear in his aorta?" He asked, trying to fight a smile beneath his surgical mask.

Cristina opened her mouth to answer and then closed it. "Idiot," She hissed under her breath at herself.

"No, no you aren't. You've never done this before. It's a lot of blood and your first instinct is to clear the field before you do anything else. Leave the field to me, but you're not going to have any visualization until you repair at least part of your tear. It's going to be a few blind stitches, but it will slow and you'll be able to see more clearly."

"M-maybe you should do this." She said, "I'll clear the field."

"No. You do it. You can do this, Cristina. I know you can do it." He answered softly.

She kept her eyes focused on his as she slid her hand down to the area where the blood flow was most turbulent. With an outstretched finger, she carefully located the tear.

Burke could see the flash of recognition in her eyes. "Good. Good. Now what?"

"I need…some 4.0 prolene and a cross clamp." Her voice was slowly starting to grow more steady. She took her requested supplies and carefully began to work at blindly suturing the tear. A few cursewords slipped from her mouth under her breath throughout the process, but she felt her heart slowing and she felt the blood returning to her face. The flow was slowing and she could actually see a little bit better.

Cristina smiled widely beneath her surgical mask, "I've…I think I've got it slowed down."

"Good." He said with a nod, pride surging through him. He'd never had any doubt that she could do it once she focused.

She looked back down and continued her work, more carefully suturing. She marveled at how the blood slowed to almost a complete stop despite the amount of heparin they'd pumped into the patient and she shook her head in disbelief. "Give protamine." She spoke with a small glow about her. "Slowly. Have three more units on standby. Do an H&H."

The bleeding slowed to almost a complete stop as the protamine was given and she shook her head in disbelief. "Okay…let's close the patient. Call ICU and put them on notice." She paused as the nurse read back the lab results. "Give one unit and recheck an hour after transfusion. I want him sedated until tomorrow, don't fast track the patient. No wedge pressures. Keep pressures less than 100 but greater than 80." She ran through the rest of her orders and glanced up at Burke.

"Do I have it all?" She asked softly.

"You've covered everything well, Dr. Yang." He said with a slight nod.

Burke could see how happy she was in her eyes, he could see the excitement. He'd missed this, seeing her in this place. Nothing had ever made her as happy as surgery did, it's just who she was. Realizing that made him love her even more than he had before.

She hadn't changed a bit.

He looked on in a proud silence as she finished closing the patient. She wasn't his intern anymore, but a graceful and talented surgeon. One of the best. Her case had started out shaky, but only with a little bit of verbal direction she had turned it around completely.

They walked together to the scrub room and Cristina felt as if her legs were barely carrying her. It was such a rush to do one of those, but so scary at the same time. "Thank you…for coming on such short notice. I would have never been able to do it without you."

"You would have."

"No, really. It was my first and my department is sorely lacking in experienced surgeons. Roberson retired in May and I haven't been able to replace him yet. I always have to fly my thoracic aneurysms to Portland."

"Not anymore," He smirked, pulling of his mask. "Now you can do it yourself."

"You're damn right I can." She grinned, smacking the button on the sink.

Silence lingered between them for a moment as they washed their hands. She looked over at him from time to time before she finally let the question slip from her lips. "How do you think you could handle working at Seattle Grace? With me?"

Burke looked over at her in surprise, clearing his throat. "Cristina, I-"

"On a professional level. I can handle it. I'm asking if you can handle it. We need an experienced surgeon and you're the best. I can work with the Chief to get you on." She answered, not looking at him. She knew that Owen wouldn't be happy about it, but he knew that she was his.

This was strictly business.

He was silent for a long moment, "Give me a few days to think about it."

Cristina nodded, a small smile on her face. "Alright. In the meantime, we can go get a cup of coffee. It's the least I can do to thank you for your help."

"That I can agree to." He smiled back at her.

They walked from the scrub room together and towards the coffee cart. He glanced around in awe of his surroundings. "It's astounding to me how little has changed since I was last here. Really the only things that are different are your scrubs." He remarked with a slight grin.

"I much prefer the navy to intern blue." She laughed softly.

He couldn't help but grin from ear to ear, "I always preferred you in the navy."

Redness rose to her cheeks, recalling the memory of stealing one of his scrub tops and parading around the apartment in it and a pair of flimsy panties, well hidden beneath the excess of soft navy material. "I can't hire you if you bring that up." Cristina said, a little flustered. "And yes, you preferred it. A lot."

The two of them laughed together as they arrived at the coffee cart, flashes of old memories running through their minds.

They had good times together. They had a lot of good times, even if the darkness had overshadowed most of them.

After retrieving their coffee, they leaned against the railing, casually chatting about their life before- back when she was an eager young intern. Back before everything became complicated and messy.

"Does he dance with you?" Burke asked before he took a sip of his coffee.

"He does." She nodded with a smile, "He's a good guy, Owen. You'd like him if he hadn't gone and tried to break your jaw."

"I respect him." Burke said, looking down at her. "He did what any man should do. He was protecting you."

Cristina shook her head, "I don't need protecting. Least of all from you."

Burke knew better. It was a different kind of protection. Owen was protecting what was his. Owen was hurting him for hurting Cristina. It was barbaric and an act that would have best been left out of civilized society, but he understood it.

And he knew he deserved it.

She reached up and traced her finger along the scar, "I did a damn good job on those sutures. You can barely tell."

"If you were an intern, I'd tell you that you had a future in plastics." He teased gently.

"And I would tell you where to go." She quipped before taking a long drink of her coffee.

He laughed again, shaking his head. He hadn't felt this relaxed in a long time. For the first time ever, Burke found himself wondering if they could be friends all things considered. He certainly didn't want to step on any toes and he didn't want it to interrupt her life, but he wanted her in her life at the same time.

If he could have her.

Cristina's pager alarmed at her hip and she glanced down at it with a sigh, "Just a break. I just want one freakin' break." She muttered. She glanced over the message and shook her head. "I have an embolectomy in OR 2 that isn't going to wait. You heading out?"

"Yes, I have a couple cases of my own that I need to follow up on."

She gave him a nod, "Think about what I said. We could use you here."

"I will, Cristina." He answered softly. He watched as she jogged down the hall and out of his view. The implications of coming back to Seattle Grace were heavy and he wasn't sure that he could bring himself to do it.

He needed to think.

x-x-x-x-x

Cristina walked out of the scrub room after the emergent embolectomy, stretching her back. She was going to need a long and hot shower after the day she'd had. Her eyes traced over to a form sitting behind the nurses' station and she smiled when she saw Owen.

"Hey." She murmured, pulling off her scrub cap. She made her way slowly to him and leaned across the counter to steal a quick kiss in the darkness of the long closed unit. "I repaired a thoracic aortic aneurysm today all by myself."

"You didn't did it all by yourself, Burke helped you." He answered, not looking at her or responding to the kiss.

"But he didn't suture it." She said, narrowing her eyes. "I did it by myself. He just explained it. It's the first I've ever done. I was excited." She explained, a little wounded by the comment.

"By the way, what the hell is he doing here? I thought he'd gone home."

"He lives here. He works at Seattle Presbyterian." She answered slowly. "For now, anyway."

Owen looked up at her in question, "What do you mean 'for now'?"

"I offered him the open position." She answered, trying to be unaffected by his tone. "I know that you don't like him, but he's the best cardiothoracic surgeon in the country. He'd bring something to the program that nobody else could."

"Cristina!" He hissed, "How could you do that? How could you invite him here?"

"It's not like I asked him if he wanted to sleep with me, Owen. It's a job. We're professionals. We can handle being professionals."

"Says the intern who screwed her attending." He muttered.

"Yeah, well I sure as hell didn't hear you complaining when I was the resident screwing her attending." She snapped back at him before she turned to walk away from him.

Owen flew up out of his seat and chased after her, grabbing onto her hand. "Cristina."

She pulled her hand from his, spinning to look at him, "No. No. You don't get to throw that crap in my face. How many times have I told you that I belong to you? That I'm yours? How many times Owen?"

"Look, I'm-"

"What? You're _sorry_?" She asked angrily, "You're not playing fair. It's a job, Owen. I-I can't keep doing this. After everything we've been through, after _everything-_ you're going to question my loyalty to you know? You're going to bring my faithfulness to you into play? I've never given you a single reason to doubt me the entire time we've been together."

"It's not you, it's him." He argued, "It's _Burke_. I don't trust him."

"Oh, please. Don't feed me that line of bullshit. Burke couldn't hurt me if he wanted to, and he's certainly not going to talk me into his bed. He's too busy kicking himself for what he did years ago."

"All the more reason for him to make it right."

"He _has_ made it right. It doesn't involve us falling into bed together!" She hissed, "What the hell is wrong with you? Why are you so threatened by him?"

Owen dropped his hands to his side, shaking his head. "Have you seen how you look at him? The way you touched him that night that you were suturing his face? Have you heard yourself talk to him? You love him, Cristina."

She scoffed, "I do not love him. Not like that. Not like you."

"But you do love him." He said, his voice dripping with accusation.

"I care about him! I worry about him because I know that he's shut himself off from everybody else in this world. He's given up. You worried about Beth. You worry about the people from your past. Don't tell me that I'm not allowed to care about him. That's going to happen whether he's here or in Guam."

"I'd feel better about it if he were in Guam."

"Because you don't trust me."

Owen crossed his arms, "Dammit, Cristina. I do too."

"Then let me do what I want. If I want to hire the best cardiothoracic surgeon in the nation to work in my department, let me. It doesn't mean that I'm not going to marry you. It doesn't mean that I'm going to sleep with him. It means that I'm doing my best to cover my department the best I can. Nothing more. And as the head of trauma, you should know how important that is. It's purely business." She said, challenging him.

After a long moment of silence, he finally spoke. "I don't have to like it."

"I never said you had to. It's not your department."

"I don't have to like him either."

Cristina shook her head, "I never asked you to like him or to be friends. You don't even have to talk to him."

It was a battle that he knew he'd lose anyway. He ran his fingers through his red hair and sighed. There was nothing he could do. "Alright," He murmured softly. "Let's just go home."

She nodded and crossed the short distance between the two of them. Her hand rested gently upon his forearm as they walked the darkened hallway together.

This morning he'd woke up and he was _sure_ that everything was going to be okay. That soon they'd be married and they'd been working on all of the things they'd dreamt of.

This evening he was going home with Cristina at his side wondering how much time he had left with her before another man would take him away from her.

Before he lost her forever.


	11. Chapter 11

They hadn't shared many words in the past days and the silence was starting to become stifling.

Burke had refused the position at Seattle Grace and Cristina thought that it would provide some sort of relief to their relationship- lift the dark cloud that had settled over it, but there was still this overwhelming sense of unease.

Neither bothered to ask what the other was thinking about, only assumed that they knew. She couldn't bring up the argument and her accusations, afraid of starting another one. He couldn't bring up Burke and how she had stood up for him at Joe's, knowing it would only make her angrier at him.

The best they could do was ignore it and move on.

Move on was exactly what he had planned on doing.

They had a future together and Owen wasn't going to let anything keep them from getting there. Despite the darkness that he'd spent a long time in, despite whatever faults he had, she loved him enough to say yes. He couldn't imagine his life without her.

Cristina was here, not with him. That's all he needed, no other reassurances. He had what was important.

He had the only thing he would ever need.

Nervously, he paced back and forth in their living room in a scarlet button up and a pair of jeans as he waited for Cristina to get home. He was going to surprise her tonight, and tonight would mark the beginning of the rest of their lives.

When the door opened he stopped to look up at it and he smiled when she walked in. "Cristina," He murmured.

Cristina looked surprised to find him there. She had supposed this was coming- the thing where they'd have to talk and say things; the part where they'd make up and move on. Apparently it was going to be tonight.

She only wished she were in the mood for it tonight.

A weak smile found its place on her lips and she leaned against the closed door, "Are you going somewhere?" She asked quietly, dropping her bag at the side of the door.

"We are. Keep your coat on."

She sighed, looking down. "Owen, it's been a really long day. Can't we do this-"

Before she could finish her sentence, he was in front of her and tipping her chin upwards as his lips devouring hers in a kiss reminiscent to their first. His fingers wove through the ebony curls that he loved so much, his body pressed firmly against hers.

Things would be so much better after tonight.

When he pulled away from her, his eyes gave her face and body a once over and he grinned a cocky grin. His voice lowered, his arm still wrapped firmly around her waist, holding her body against his. "You were saying?"

"Uh.." Cristina was still a little shell shocked from the sudden onslaught on her body so early in the evening. Before her brain could even wrap around the process of making enough words to form a coherent reply, she was being led out of their apartment and down the hallway.

She wasn't sure what was going on or even what she'd done to bring this about, but she was slightly curious so she kept her mouth shut.

Owen opened her door for her and waited until she was inside to close it. His eyes traveled to the backseat, everything he'd need for their perfect evening carefully tucked under a blanket and behind her seat.

After sliding into his seat, he produced a piece of black material from his pocket and stretched it out. "Come here," He murmured.

Cristina's brow furrowed, "What is that for?"

"It's a surprise," He answered with outstretched arms to tie the fabric over her eyes.

She pulled away quickly, "Okay, whatever surprise you have, you don't have to cover my eyes up do you? I can close them."

He smirked, "I know you. I have spent the best years of my life with you. I know that you have an insatiable curiosity and that despite the fact that you say you're going to close your eyes, I know you won't."

"I will too."

"And you cheat." He added with another grin.

She hadn't seen him in this kind of a mood in a long time. It was like everything before the conference, before the most recent string of anxiety he'd had. It's as if everything was settling back down to normal again.

Everything was going to be good again.

Relaxing, she closed her eyes and let her hands rest in her lap. "Okay."

Owen carefully tied the band around her eyes and then turned back to the steering wheel. He flipped on the stereo, his iPod securely docked in place and playing every song she'd ever loved to dance with him to.

Some people would call it setting the mood.

Tonight it was just a reminder of how good it was, how good they would be again.

Cristina fought to find some sense of direction as she felt the car move. The lack of control was driving her crazy, and not necessarily in a good way. She reached up to scratch her nose in an attempt to push the blindfold back just a little bit, but gasped when he grabbed her hand.

"Not nice." She muttered indignantly.

"You were cheating." He laughed, still holding her hand.

"I do not cheat."

"You were trying to." He reminded her as he pulled the car to a stop. "It doesn't matter now. We're here." He let go of her hand and leaned over. He started to kiss her cheek and then he smiled to himself before he carefully moved a lush bunch of curls from her shoulder.

Her breath seemed to get lost in her throat as she felt his hot breath teasing her neck and then the wildly arousing sensation of his whiskers scraping her skin. She found herself wondering why she had even bothered with fighting him when he attempted to put the blindfold on her. Suddenly his hot mouth was on her neck and his fingers were tracing agonizing patterns on the inside of her thigh and she was overwhelmed with a desire to make love to him unlike any one that she'd had in the past few weeks.

Just as suddenly the sensations were gone and the only thing she felt was her heart pounding in her chest and an intense ache between her legs that could only be satiated by him. "Don't stop." She whimpered softly, knowing it was the best way to get to him.

Owen didn't want to stop, but that part would definitely come later.

And he would _definitely_ use the blindfold.

"Later," He whispered against her ear in husky voice. "Wait here."

Cristina felt the car shift as disappointment replaced the arousal in her body. The door opened behind her and she felt some shuffling behind her seat and then the door closed. She waited in silence for another few moments, listening for any clue as to what was going on.

Suddenly, she was a little guilty for not wanting to come because she was definitely interested now. They'd lacked spontaneity for a while, and if anything, her Owen was spontaneous. Whether it was a trip to the planetarium on a Tuesday night to whisper to each other under the stars on a stormy night, or a trip to the hospitals ventilation system he seemed to always have something up his sleeve.

He knew how to keep her interested.

Her door jerked open, pulling her from her reverie and she looked in the direction of the open door. The night air chilled her skin slightly, but she was anxious to get out into it.

Owen took her outstretched hand and helped her out of the car. After closing the door, he guided her across a patch of grass with his arm wrapped around her waist. Upon arriving at their destination, he carefully positioned her in front of him, his hands grasping her waist tightly. He bent and kissed her just gently, "Do you remember where I wanted to take you for our first date?"

Cristina's brow furrowed in concentration beneath her blindfold as she tried to recall. There had been so much at the beginning and she wasn't the sentimental type to remember those things- even with Owen. Finally, she shook her head, not even the least bit embarrassed that she couldn't recall.

They'd never made it on that first date anyway; it had taken them eight long months to make it on an actual date. That was back when things were the worst that they could possibly be. Those were the days that they rarely talked about- they had found something better than their after and they were going to stay firmly planted in the now.

Or at least try to.

His fingers carefully made their way to the knot buried in her curls, "You remember," He murmured softly, "The West Point lighthouse."

The words sparked a small ember in the back of her mind that burned into a faint memory from so many years ago. "You wanted to watch the Northern Lights. I remember."

As much as she hated it, the darker parts of that night stuck in her head, overshadowing any good intention.

Carefully, Owen pulled the blindfold from her eyes, his fingers laid just beneath her chin to keep her from looking around. "With a bottle of wine, the stars and just us." He uttered softly, "Nothing too fancy, because I knew it wasn't you. Nothing too casual, because you deserved better. Something unique, because you'd get bored easily."

Cristina didn't say anything, but she could recognize that he'd thought long and hard about the date that he'd wanted to give her. She could hear the regret still lacing his tone for never being able to give her that night.

"We've been on good dates, though." She spoke softly, "You've more than made up for us never making it there."

"Except for actually making it there." He said, bending to kiss her.

Their lips lingered for a moment before he pulled away. His fingers reached down to lace with hers and he lead her towards a blanket in the middle of a large open area. The waterfront sat beyond them, the stars glittering in the dark sky. There was a bottle of wine with two glasses and a single red rose next to it.

Cristina spun on her heels to find herself in the shadow of a large light house and she smiled widely at it. She turned to look back at him, and it's like she was falling for him all over again. This was the man that she'd missed, the man she would do anything for. Not even the guilt over the past few days tugging at the back of her mind could ruin the moment.

In a quick, fluid motion, she stepped back into his arms and smashed her lips against his, kissing him passionately. He stumbled backwards a few steps before wrapping his arms tightly around her waist and lifting her in his arms just a few inches off the ground.

It seemed as if they'd found themselves once more.

Owen lowered her carefully to the ground and lay next to her, kissing her once more. His hands ran softly up and down her side, teasing the skin just beneath the hem of her shirt every once in a while. He murmured soft promises about a thousand nights just like this one and he smiled against her lips when she agreed without hesitation.

Their life would be perfect.

She moved so she was slightly beneath him, his lips still nipping at her neck. She ran her fingers through his hair, her eyes drifting open to glance up at the sky as he drove her crazy. Just as his lips found hers once more, she pulled back only a little bit. "I'm glad," She whispered, "That we didn't get to go that first night."

He looked down at her in confusion, "Why do you say that?"

Cristina's hand lay against the side of his face, stroking his cheek softly. She looked into the deep pools of blue before she raised her head to kiss him softly. "I would have never appreciated it like I do now."

Owen smiled widely, pulling her into his arms. There were no words to contend with the admission she had just made and he would not try.

She had already said it all.

They laid there beneath the stars, whispering things about the past, about the present, but neither made any real attempt to discuss the future until Cristina finally found the nerve to do so.

"We could get married here." She suggested, feeling heat burning in her cheeks. "I mean, I don't like…the big wedding thing. It's just that the courthouse seems underrated. For this. For us."

His eyes trailed over to her, but her eyes remained focused on the sky above them. He could tell that she was a little embarrassed, but he found it almost endearing. "We could. If that's what you wanted."

"It could be small. I could wear a thing…not a real one, but y'know. A dress. A few people. It could just be short. No reception or anything. But it wouldn't be all quiet or whatever. It wouldn't be like it was no big deal." She rambled, her voice wavering a little. "It's not like we could do it next week, like if we did it the other way. But it would be worth the wait, I think."

"I think so too." He answered softly, his fingers lacing with hers.

"Okay." She echoed, a breath released in a small sigh of relief.

Owen couldn't help but laugh a little at the sound of her voice, shaking his head.

She looked over at him with narrowed eyes. "What's so funny?"

"You asked like you thought I'd say no."

Her elbow jammed into his side with little mercy, "Not funny."

He grasped his side and rolled away from her with a stifled laugh and grimace on his face. "Are you trying to break a rib, Yang?"

Laughter erupted from her lips as she sat up to roll him back over, "I can take you home and make it better."

"You have a one track mind." He muttered sitting back up.

Like he was any better.

"I do. And it involves a blindfold." She answered, her eyes darkening significantly as they met his.

Immediately, he found himself on his feet and he lifted her to hers. "I like your way of thinking."

"I thought you would." She answered, helping him pick up their stuff. They carried it back to the car side by side, shoulders brushing just slightly. It was amusing, the little things they did that would make her squirm in the light of day. They were things that she never thought twice about doing with him, though. Things that she looked forward to, stuff that she'd come to live for.

She did her best to make the ride home as painful as possible for him, brushing her hands blatantly against him, rubbing through his jeans.

He groaned as he finally made it to the apartment grabbing her wrist roughly, "You're killing me."

"You have to admit, what I'm doing to you would be one hell of a way to go if it were really killing you." She teased, her lips against his ear.

"Get out of the car." He said in a firm voice, forcing himself away from her. The tightness in his pants was only increasing and becoming more uncomfortable and he needed to find relief soon. He tucked the blindfold into his back pocket and pressed his hand firmly into the small of her back until they were outside of their apartment door and he spun her around to pres her against the door. He kissed her hard, his fingers gripping her hips so tightly that he feared for only a moment that he might leave bruises.

They had found themselves again and what they were doing- it wasn't about pity or guilt, it wasn't about assurance- it was about passion. It was about the way they drove each other crazy; and it only fueled him more. He got the door open without his lips ever leaving hers and locked it in the same manner. Clothes were shed as he pushed her back into the bedroom, left in nothing but her bra and panties.

He took her in with warm eyes before he broke their series of rough kisses with a soft one. He reached up once more, tying the blindfold on until he lowered her onto the bed.

Cristina delighted at the different things that she noticed when she couldn't see. The way her senses elevated to make up for the new deficit. Her mouth fell open at the sensation of his lips teasing her erect nipple through her bra, barely brushing the peak. His mouth closed around it, drawing the lacy mound upwards even further. She whimpered then, trying to pull her bra off, but she found her arms pinned over her head with one large hand.

In that split second, she had decided she'd never been more turned on in her entire life. Another whimper fell from her lips as he moved his tongue along the skin peeking out of the top of her bra, sweeping under them just barely. He was going to torture her the way she had tortured him.

Owen's free hand moved up her inner thigh and he lightly ran a finger over her through her panties. He marveled at the gasps and moans he drew out of her. His Cristina was never one to stay quiet, but this was definitely more than what he was normally treated to. Carefully, he slid her panties down, unable to resist the dampness that lay underneath them. She was so inviting already and it would take a great deal of discipline for him to avoid just burying himself inside her.

All at once, the sensations stopped and Cristina's mouth fell open, wanting so much more from him. She begged softly, whispering his name. Another moment passed and suddenly she found her legs pressed apart, his hands on the inside of her thighs and his mouth pressed against her center. He pressed his tongue hard against her clit, sucked and bit gently. He slid one finger inside her and then a second, aroused by how she was so damn responsive.

Cristina's back arched off of the bed when he pushed another finger inside her, stretching and pulling in the way she loved the most. Her hand dropped down until she could find a handful of his hair and she curled her fist around it, tugging gently. Her hips began to rock hard into his hand, eagerly seeking out release, desperate to find the moment where he would become her only reality.

Her walls began to quiver around his fingers and he thrust them harder inside her, reaching until they found the rough patch that made her lose every ounce of control. He pressed against it ruthlessly, increasing his assault on her clit.

She unraveled quickly, her legs trembling. Tugging at his hair, she tried to pull him away as he continued to lick and rub her, riding her through her orgasm, but he would not come to her until she was completely overwhelmed. She cried out again, her arms falling at her side as her body finally succumbed to the full effect of his ministrations.

He crawled back over her body, poised to enter her at any moment, but he waited. He watched her, pink lips parted, her perfect breasts rising and falling in rapid and uneven breaths. "You're beautiful," He whispered, his breath misting across her sated skin.

"I love you," She whispered back.

Owen's mouth covered hers as he slid inside her in one hard movement, unable to resist her heat anymore. His hips quickly found a pace that was a bit harder than he had intended on taking her, but one that she definitely didn't find displeasing.

Cristina could taste herself on his lips and it only further served to intensify the movements between them. She bit his lower lip as she slammed her hips up against his, pushing him deeper inside her. What had started as darkness had become intense flashes of light, growing brighter and more powerful with each hard thrust.

He took her under the knee, raising her leg until it was over her shoulder- first one, then the other. He rose higher with each thrust, nearly sliding out of her completely before driving back into her with a force that caused her to cry out each time. With any other woman, he would fear that he could be hurting her, but with Cristina he knew better.

He was more than aware of what she preferred.

Her fingernails dug deep into his flesh, enough that she would swear that there would be little splotches of blood on his arms when all was said and done. His lips crushed hers again, swallowing every loud cry and whimper, every utterance of his name. She became amused when he started grunting with each powerful movement. It was rare that she got noise out of him, and when she did she knew it was because it was just _that_ good.

Pulling her lips from his, she carefully moved so that she could find his neck, spreading sloppy kisses until she found his ear. Just as she did, she felt herself starting to quiver around him once more. "Touch me," she purred against his ear, indicating that she was ready for her release.

Immediately he complied, rubbing her hard and ruthlessly. He pinched and pressed against her clit until she was clenched around his length so tightly that he could barely move against the amount of resistance. With one last hard thrust, he came inside her in long spurts, groaning until he was completely spent.

Cristina lay there breathless and speechless, unable to even muster the effort to remove the blindfold from her eyes. She was thankful whenever he did it instead and she looked up at him through the dim light of the streetlight outside. Her eyes softened as she gazed into his.

She knew in that moment that it was where she wanted to stay for as long as time would allow. It wasn't something she said out loud- she'd never be able to find the right words to say something like that, but she hoped that he knew too.

He kissed her again, making no effort to move off of her.

They had found each other once more, and he didn't intend on letting her go anytime soon.

He didn't intend on letting her go ever.


	12. Chapter 12

She was beautiful.

There was something breathtaking about the woman before him. He was never able to put his finger on it, never able to figure out exactly what it was that held onto his heart the way that it did.

Her laugh was rare but when she did laugh, it was intoxicating. Being just around her when she laughed was enough to lift any mood.

He loved it most when she smiled.

Sure, she smiled enough to people at work; chuckled at other's misfortunes from time to time. Those gestures though, those weren't real. In comparison to the real thing, they were as fake as Cristina Yang ever really got.

Cristina's real smile was nearly nondescript; her lips only slightly upturned, her eyebrows raised in a near question. To others, her real smile wasn't a smile at all.

They didn't know where to look.

When she smiled, her eyes would get brighter. They would open wider, open and pour out emotion that she kept safely hidden away from people that she did not know or trust. Her eyes would declare all of the words that she couldn't utter.

When she smiled, he would get lost in her eyes forever.

Burke swallowed his nostalgia with a bitter shot of whiskey, letting them burn all the way down and settle into the pit that had become his stomach. He used to believe that he wanted to see her, wanted to tell her all of the regrets that he held onto with a death grip. He foolishly used to think about the opportunity that would present itself and how he'd be able to take it all back.

He used to imagine what it would be like if she forgave him.

Those images that flashed through his head didn't imagine her laughing at another man's jokes. They didn't involve somebody else being able to read her the way he could. They certainly didn't involve his hands in places where he wished he had not seen them.

Before- before he had regretted leaving her. He had regretted never listening to her and always pushing for what he wanted. Before his regrets had strong reason behind them; they were decisions that haunted him.

Now his regrets ran much deeper.

He should have made her laugh more. He should have gone to Joe's with her and show her how much he couldn't keep his hands off of her. He should have told her how much he loved it when she smiled.

Burke couldn't help but think as he watched the two of them that it didn't seem like Cristina. She would have squirmed if he touched her like that. She would have looked at him with that glance of doubt if he had done the things that this guy was doing.

At one point in his life, he would have brushed it off as things that weren't meant to be. He would have thought it to be that she had found the one person made especially for her.

He didn't take stock in those things.

He had left her thinking that there would be someone that would fulfill him and want the same things that he wanted. He had given her freedom thinking that maybe they just weren't mean to be.

After years of trying, after being married and having everything he thought he wanted, he knew better.

If there was one person walking this planet that was for him, it was her. It was Cristina.

Watching her now, though, seeing her with this man- he knew that it couldn't be real. While she was the woman for him, apparently he was not the man.

He wasn't good enough for her.

Burke took another long drink of his whiskey to finish it off. He left some money on the table and slipped from the shadow to carefully make his way towards the door- not that she'd notice him anyway. The air was bitter as he stepped outside and it dissipated the heat left behind by the burn of his drink. He pulled his coat tighter around him and walked with a slight stagger towards his car.

As he pulled his keys from his pocket, he felt a strong hand on his shoulder.

"You and I both know that you've had too much to drink to be doing that." Owen said, holding his hand out for the keys.

Burke stood staring at the man with a furrowed brow. He looked at his outstretched hand and he tried to straighten out his posture as much as he could. "I'm fine."

"Denial is the first step." Owen quipped, reaching out to take the keys.

He didn't fight him, only looked at him in a stupor. He didn't understand it, why he would do this. Jamming his hands in his pockets, he licked his lips slightly. What the hell was he supposed to say?

Thank you? Thank you for stealing the love of my life and making her happier than I ever could?

Finally, Burke cleared his throat, "You have one hell of a right hook."

"You're damn right I do and if you don't stay away from her, you'll feel it again." Owen replied evenly.

"I'm staying away." Burke assured him, his gaze never breaking from the other man's. His blue eyes surprised Burke. He couldn't see Cristina with somebody that had such fair features- red hair, blue eyes, pale skin etched with scars and weathered from years of god only knew.

Maybe it was because he didn't want to picture Cristina with somebody that wasn't him.

"Then what are you doing here?" Owen asked, his arms crossing across his chest.

"Why do you have my keys?" Burke countered, leaning back against the wall for a little stability.

"Because I want her to forget you." He uttered in a low voice, "When she has nothing to do except for think, the last thing I ever want her to think about is you. When she thinks about the men in her life, I don't even want you to be an afterthought. Do you know what it would do to her if you drove yourself off the side of the road in a drunken stupor? Do you have any idea how much she'd think about _you_? You don't deserve that."

"You're not saving me, you're saving her."

"As if you wouldn't do the same thing." Owen answered.

Burke took in his words and understood him completely. He didn't feel an ounce of anger for the man's actions. His shoulders sagged in defeat, self loathing only rising more within him. "She loves you. She may have thought of me recently, but if she hasn't already she'll forget me soon." His voice wavered at the end, the realization hitting him the moment that he mumbled the words.

He would be forgotten.

What they had would be forgotten and she would move on.

"She'll forget you more easily if your brains aren't scraped up on a highway." Owen answered, stepping out to wave down a cab as it passed. It slowed to a stop and he opened the door. "Stay away from her. Stay away from the hospital. Stay away from Joe's. You let her go. You didn't get her, you didn't love her and you don't get to see her."

"I loved her enough to let her go." Burke answered, his tone a little stronger. "I may have hurt her, but I loved her. Don't ever say that I didn't. Don't ever insinuate that I didn't. I love her like I've never loved anyone else."

"Loved." Owen corrected, fingers curled around the door. "You didn't love her like you should have. You don't have a clue who she really is."

Burke smiled sadly, finally slipping into his seat. He reached out to retrieve his keys, "That may be, Hunt. But I loved her enough, I knew her enough to know that I wasn't enough for her. I let her go. You couldn't do it."

"Only an idiot would do that."

"If I hadn't, you wouldn't have her."

A smug grin crossed Owen's lips, "I had her from the moment I saw her. It wouldn't have been any different if you were here."

"If you truly believe that, you do not know Cristina. She's above that." Burke answered, reaching for the door to pull it closed.

Owen grabbed onto the door, stopping it from closing and he jerked it back open. "You stay away from her. If I see you one more time," He paused to shake his head, "She's happy. She's truly happy. I swear to God if you take that from her, you will regret it."

"I can see that." Burke answered, taking hold of his door once more. "And it's all I needed to see. Take care of her. Keep her happy. I swear to God if you don't, you will regret it. I know from experience."

With a final tug, Burke pulled the door from his hands and closed it before telling the cab driver to go. Owen watched as it disappeared into the night and he moved back towards the door of the bar. It was his hopes that he could take the other man's word as an oath.

She had forgotten him and they were good again; Owen would do anything to protect that.

As he stepped back into the bar, he saw Cristina sitting there drink in hand and she smiled. Not like most people smiled, but that faint play of amusement that crossed her lips. His eyes met hers and his lips turned up into the same imperceptible show of happiness.

He walked up behind her, laid a hand firmly on her waist and bent to kiss the side of her neck before whispering in her ear. Her smile grew a little wider and she turned to look at him for a long moment before leaning forward to kiss him.

Pulling her off the bar and towards the corner to dance, he couldn't help but keep a smug grin off of his face. Burke or no, he knew that they were supposed to be here- just like this.

They were made for each other.


	13. Chapter 13

Meredith walked past Cristina's office again. Whatever was on the computer, she was really intent on. She slowed her gait once more, craning her neck to see what it was that had her friend's attention so fully but she couldn't make it out.

"Screw this." She muttered, pushing the door open. Her eyes fixed on the screen and her mouth fell open a little. "Th-those are dresses. You're looking at _dresses_?"

Cristina jumped at the intrusion, reaching forward immediately to shut off her computer screen. "I am not looking at dresses. I'm working."

"Are you a seamstress?" Meredith snickered, reaching past her to turn it on. "Don't tell me that you're going all blushing bride on me."

She pushed Meredith's hand away from the monitor, "I don't blush."

Meredith looked at her in surprise and sunk onto the arm rest on her chair. "So…we're looking at dresses."

Cristina's eyes turned back to the screen without any acknowledgement of Meredith's words. "My legs are not that long."

"They can cut it or whatever."

"It's white."

"You're _so_ not innocent." Meredith smirked, "Maybe the champagne?"

Cristina clicked on the color and tilted her head just slightly to the side, studying the dress. "It's a dress."

"It's a champagne dress. A dress with a color named after alcohol. Obviously superior to the other dresses." Meredith elaborated, trying to keep Cristina half distracted while keeping her focused. She sensed the hesitation lacing her friend's actions.

She blamed it on _him_.

"Yeah." Cristina mumbled, pressing down the button on her mouse over the order link, but not releasing it. Her eyes glanced over the dress again and she pulled her mouse away from the link before letting go of the button. "It's right….right?"

Meredith looked down at her with a slight frown. "I can't tell you that."

She looked upwards, "Yes you can. You can tell me that."

"You know. You always do. You're Cristina."

Cristina looked back at the dress and moved her mouse up to exit out of the screen. She could almost hear Meredith inhale like she was making the wrong move. Her mouse moved back down to the order button and she clicked on it without a word.

It had to be right.

Meredith leaned over, laying her head on top of Cristina's as she went about ordering the dress. It was a pretty dress- it was flowy and soft, landing just above the knee. It had spaghetti straps and a bodice that would accentuate her body perfectly- but it wasn't too tight. "You'll be able to breathe," She murmured softly.

A soft exhale left Cristina's lips as she remembered how tight the other dress was; how it felt like it was cutting off her oxygen supply and clamping her chest down so tightly that her lungs couldn't expand. It was months after that before she found her breath again and she had found it in Owen.

She knew better than to think that she'd find herself breathless once more.

It was nerves. It was cold feet.

Somehow, that didn't make Cristina feel any better knowing that. She needed more. She needed evidence. She needed assurance.

"You're touching me." She finally mustered as she shut off her monitor.

Meredith took the cue to quit comforting her friend and she jumped up from the chair and then grabbed Cristina's arm. "C'mon. We're going to Joe's."

Cristina pulled her arm back from Meredith's hand. "I can't. I'm going home early tonight. I have some stuff I have to do."

With a shrug, she pulled open the door to Cristina's office to leave her office. "Suit yourself. More for me."

"It's a bar."

"Doesn't mean I can't drink Joe out of business." She answered with a wrinkled nose and a grin before she turned to leave.

Cristina watched intently as she left and then turned back to the clock. She waited for another twenty minutes, sitting in silence before standing behind her desk.

All she needed was proof.

Her radio was blaringly silent and her driving was more careful than normal. The needle on her speedometer remained fixed right on the limit, but her mind was racing. She knew that she could turn around at any moment, knew that she probably should.

But she couldn't.

Seattle Presbyterian was old; no remodeling would ever hide the antiquity of the building. The brick and concrete edifice loomed over the south side of the city, now occupied by new buildings, new homes which only served to proclaim it's age even more loudly.

Cristina parked in front of the hospital and her shoes echoed against the pavement as she made her way to the door. She had been here a few times before, helping out when they were short handed. The hallways carried a distinct smell of prestige and age that Seattle Grace lacked no matter what.

Her hospital was the newest hospital in the city, and while it may have been the best and the most popular, there was something about this hospital. It would always have a special place in the city, a certain designation that no other would be able to obtain.

Seattle Grace would never be Seattle Presbyterian, yet there was room in the city for both.

The very sight of the scrubcap that she was so used to seeing so many years ago drew her back from her thoughts and she cleared her throat. "I..uh..need to talk. To you."

Burke didn't look up at the sound of her voice. He didn't want to see her, he couldn't. "There's nothing that you need to talk to me about."

"You're the only one I can talk to you about this." Cristina mumbled softly, leaning over the counter.

"Grey. Hunt. You have plenty of people that you can talk to, whatever the issue."

Cristina lowered her voice. "This isn't about them. This is about us."

The ache in Burke's chest only grew at her words. He had hoped that she would not forget him, but at the same time he knew that he could not talk to her. He was a man of his word and he was not going to interfere. "There is no us, Cristina. There hasn't been an us for years."

"I know that's wha-"

"You have somebody waiting for you at home." He interrupted, his voice raising. "Yet, you're here and harassing me. I've said what I needed to in order to clear my conscience and I have no more to say to you. Please leave."

Cristina stood firmly before him, her words strong. "I know that you don't mean that."

He stood, gathering his charts, "Unless you have a patient here, Dr. Yang, I would suggest that you leave the premise."

"Burke…look at me." She said, reaching across the counter to take hold of his arm.

Ignoring the feeling of her fingers on his skin, he tried to steel his gaze before looking up to her. He looked right through her, trying his best not to focus on her face. He wasn't going to look her in the eye. "I have work to do."

Her hands dropped to her side as she watched him walk away from her. She needed her proof. She needed to know. "Would I have known?" She called after him. "Was there something that I missed?"

Burke stopped, but didn't turn to look back at her. His fingers tightened around the charts in his arms. He was supposed to stay away from her.

Cristina saw him tense and she continued, knowing that she had him. "Should I have been able to tell that you weren't happy…with me? That you were going to leave?"

He turned to look at her, his eyes softer and then he shook his head. "No."

She looked at him, searching his eyes in earnest. All she wanted was proof that it was nerves, she wanted to make sure that there were no warning signs. "Nothing at all?"

"He loves you, Cristina. He loves you more than you can imagine. He'll do anything for you, I know firsthand. No man in his right mind would leave you, least of all him." His tone was still laced with a sadness that even caused her heart to ache.

"Even if he thought he was doing the right thing?" She questioned.

"Even if he thought he was doing the right thing." He repeated, his voice firm. "Go home, Cristina. Talk to him about it. Tell him what you're thinking. Don't come to me."

Her eyes bore into his and she advanced towards him, "I can go to him." She murmured, "Who can you go to?"

"I don't need anybody. I don't have anything to discuss." Burke answered, tearing his eyes away from hers.

She nodded, another question answered. "If you need something, you can come to me."

"I won't."

"Well, if you do, _when_ you do- you know where I am." Cristina assured him softly.

Burke couldn't forget where she was, no matter how desperately he wanted to. "Goodbye, Cristina."

Cristina watched as he walked away from her again, except she made no attempt to stop him this time. Even though she knew that she shouldn't, she worried about him. She found herself starting to think less of the past and more of the present. He didn't seem to have anybody, from what she had seen and she began to wonder how he was coping with that.

Maybe she was just trying to find something to worry about besides herself.

Her drive home was a long one, filled with detours that she needn't take. As she pulled up to the apartment, she noticed Owen sitting on the bench outside. She slid out of her car, watching him closely.

He looked angry.

"Hey," She mumbled nonchalantly.

"You're late." He responded, looking up at her.

Cristina licked her lips, trying to settle on a response. He would know if she had been at the hospital, and he would probably know if she had been at Joe's too, so she just settled on the truth. "I went to Seattle Presbyterian."

Owen pushed himself off the bench and pushed his hands into his pockets. He began to walk away from her wordlessly, anger rising in his gut.

She followed after him carefully, knowing better than to just jump on his back. "Listen. Listen to me before you walk away. I needed to ask him a question. That's all. It wasn't some big conversation, it wasn't any apologies, it was a question."

"What question could you possibly need to ask _him_?"

"I wanted to ask him…I needed to know if there was something I should look for." Cristina reached out to grab onto Owen's hand. "He didn't answer it. He told me to ask you."

He looked down at their hands and then traced his eyes back up to hers. "And?"

Cristina tried to make the words come, she tried to open up this fear to him, but she just couldn't. "I just asked him if there was anything I could have done differently. To help with the wedding stuff. He told me that he didn't know what we were doing and to ask you. He told me to talk to you."

Owen couldn't help but keep a slight smile from his face, "You told him about the wedding?"

"Yeah." She said, looking down. Guilt began to eat at her again and she kept her eyes fixed on the concrete beneath her feet.

"Why didn't you ask me?" He asked softly.

"I…don't know. Because you'd tell me that I was even if I wasn't."

"There isn't a lot that we have to do. And you're the one doing most of it." He assured her, surprised that's what had been bothering her. "Next time just come to me, okay? Forget about him."

Cristina nodded, knowing that she couldn't fully forget about him. Cristina moved compliantly as he pulled her into his arms and kissed the top of her head. It was just cold feet and nerves. He obviously cared about her, he wouldn't ever leave.

Just a few more weeks, they would be married and the nerves would be an afterthought. He would be at her side and things would be just as they'd always been.

She would still be able to breathe.


	14. Chapter 14

Cristina looked up at the ceiling, listening to the sound of her own breathing. Her hands met over her stomach and her fingers ran over the ring on her finger, over and over again in an effort to keep herself grounded to the now, what was important.

_Who_ was important.

She wasn't stupid, she knew that Owen would never go for her checking up on Burke periodically. She knew that there was no such thing as being friends with an ex, not in a guys' mind anyway.

Burke left her and never once looked back, never cared whether or not she was okay.

Why couldn't she do the same?

Meredith lingered in the doorway of Cristina's bedroom, watching her. She could tell that there was something wrong, even if nobody else could. She _knew_ what was wrong.

She just wasn't sure how to deal with it.

Carefully, she closed the door and walked across the bedroom. She eased herself onto the bed next to Cristina and looked up at the spot she imagined Cristina to be staring at. "You're thinking."

"It's not against the law." Cristina mumbled.

"That depends on what you think about. Sometimes it's called premeditating or something." Meredith teased softly, hoping for some show of emotion.

Nothing came.

"I'm not planning on killing anybody."

Meredith wanted to look at her, but she kept her eyes focused and her tone nonchalant. "Are you planning on leaving him?"

Cristina shook her head, "No. No, I'm not the one leaving."

Silence lingered between them for a few moments, each of them pondering her words. Meredith was trying to figure out how to draw it out of her.

In the end, she didn't have to.

"I went to Burke. I needed to see him." Cristina whispered.

Meredith dug her fingernails into the side of her thigh to keep her reaction to a minimum. "And?"

"I wanted to know if there was something that I should have seen. That I should have noticed before he left. He told me Owen loves me and that he wouldn't do it. He told me to talk to him, that I should tell him. I tried, but I couldn't. I couldn't say it."

"You can trust him." Meredith murmured. "He does love you. And he would want to know if you're-"

"No. It's not that." Cristina interjected. "Do you know how much it would hurt him? How much it would bother him if I likened him to what Burke did? He'd be upset. He wouldn't understand. I should be past this. I am past it. It's nerves. It's nerves and I don't need to say anything."

"If it's nerves why are you thinking about it?" She pressed softly. "Because you're thinking a lot."

Cristina pressed her lips together, her fingers slowing against her ring. She pulled her fingers away from the ring that Owen had placed there and her hands fell to her side instead. Raising her head, she very consciously checked their surroundings, listened for any sign of Owen before speaking again.

"I'm thinking about Burke."

Meredith couldn't keep her reaction this time. She turned and looked towards Cristina, her eyes contradicting the cool tone of her voice. "Okay. So?"

"I shouldn't think about him." Cristina answered quietly.

"But it's thinking. It's not like you're thinking about sleeping about him." There was a moment of thoughtful silence before Meredith added, "Are you?"

"No. I just think about him. Seeing him, talking to him. Listening. He doesn't have anybody. He's…not Burke. Anymore."

"He is. He's Burke. He's always going to be Burke. He's okay, Cristina."

She shook her head. She knew better. Maybe she was the only one who could see when he was just a shell, when he was in pain.

Maybe Cristina was the only one who really knew Burke.

"Hey." Meredith said, elbowing her in the side. "No thinking to yourself while I'm here."

Cristina looked over at Meredith for the first time, her face obviously pained. "I should be able to do this, even when I know that he has nobody. He did it to me."

"You can do it, Cristina. You are doing it. You're going to marry Owen." Meredith murmured, rolling onto her side. "You're getting married."

"I know that. I'm not walking away from this. I just shouldn't have to think about it." She sighed, looking back up at the ceiling.

Owen stood at the doorway of their bedroom with the door slightly cracked, two plane tickets in hand. She had to think about it not to walk away from it? Things had been fine; she was talking about the wedding. She even had a dress. He didn't understand.

His plane tickets fell to the ground as he stood, listening for anything else.

Cristina sat up, shaking her head. "I'm not thinking anymore. We're supposed to be doing stuff."

"Thinking is okay. You're allowed to think."

"I don't want to think. I just want to do this and get it overwith." Cristina answered, pushing herself off of the bed. She slipped on a pair of shoes sitting by the dresser and looked back to Meredith. "What? Are you going to lay there all day?"

Meredith smirked, "Funny. Fifteen minutes ago, I was wondering the same about you."

Cristina pulled the door open and out of the corner of her eye saw Owen sitting on the couch. She walked over to him and sunk onto her knee next to him and reached out to stroke his cheek lightly. "Hey," She murmured softly. "I didn't think you'd be home so early."

Owen pulled his cheek away from her hand, "Well I am."

She furrowed her brow, her hand dropping into her lap. "What?"

"Nothing."

Cristina glanced over her shoulder and saw Meredith in the doorway. She didn't say anything, only a look that told her to wait for her outside. She waited until Meredith was out of the apartment before she turned back to him. "What's wrong? Was it a bad day?"

"No, it wasn't a bad day. It was a great day, Cristina. It was a fucking fantastic day." He snapped, his voice raising. "I went and got your wedding band. After that, I went to a travel agent because I didn't feel like a weekend in Sonoma was enough for our honeymoon. I felt like you deserved more. So I got a house on a private beach in St. John for ten days. I bought plane tickets to St. John first class, because you deserve more than coach. I came home, thinking that I'd make that pineapple chicken that you like so much and give you the tickets, but then I saw your bag by the door so I was going to surprise you then. I didn't want to wait."

He stood up abruptly from the couch, sending tattered shreds of plane tickets fluttering through the air. "But I waited. I wouldn't want to interrupt your _thinking_."

Cristina immediately grabbed his hand, standing up. "You don't know what you're talking about. You don't know what you were listening to."

"I heard enough." Owen muttered, jerking his hand away. "You want him, Cristina? You want Burke? You can have him. You deserve each other."

She lunged forward again, "No. No, I don't want him. I want _you_. You don't know what you were listening to."

"Then tell me, goddammit!" He yelled, "Tell me what the hell you have to think about before marrying me!"

Her eyes started to glisten and her mouth hung open as she fought to force the words out. They came out broken and barely audible, but they were there. "I..I don't want you to leave. I know you wouldn't. Except I think about putting on that dress and waiting for you…and you never come."

"You know me better than that, Cristina." He answered coolly.

"I know I do. But it doesn't change the past. It doesn't change those things that linger in the back of your mind, waiting for the best time to surface again. You of all people know that." She answered back, her eyes still wet. "Please don't leave."

Owen shook his head, backing away. "I can't talk to you right now."

"Owen," She pleaded softly.

"I need to _think_." He finished in a bitter tone before he walked away from her, his footsteps heavy. He pulled open the door and left without once looking at her.

She winced when the door slammed and then dropped to the couch, her body trembling. A single tear spilt down her cheek, streaking down her face and then finding it's demise on her sweater. Her hands came together and she started to wring them and she desperately thought of what she could do to convince him that she was sorry.

Cristina didn't know what to do.

Meredith slipped inside the apartment and saw Cristina on the couch, her heart sinking. She had put her back together once before. She didn't know if she'd be able to do it again.

It didn't mean she wouldn't try.

Quietly, she made her way to her side and sat beside her. Her head came to rest against Cristina's shoulder. Her eyes scanned over the bits of tattered paper, to the half consumed beer on the coffee table and she knew that it couldn't be good.

"He's thinking." Cristina uttered.

Meredith didn't move her head, only closed her eyes. She tried to imagine what she could say to make this situation better, to reassure Cristina. There had to be some sort of words that could soothe this sting of the old wounds that were sure to be aching.

Only one thing came to mind, "Thinking isn't against the law," She murmured softly.

Cristina nodded, still wringing her hands.

She only hoped that it was thinking and not premeditation.


	15. Chapter 15

It had been far too many days for her comfort; far too many hours of silence for her to be able to breathe without that pang in her chest that came with the connotation that that silence carried.

She knew what was going to happen.

Cristina just didn't want to accept it.

Owen was in the call room and the only thing she had to do was wake him up. She had to wake him up and make him believe that he was it. That she wanted what they had and nothing else.

She just hoped that her words would be good enough.

It was a rushed and desperate move, barging into the call room like she had. She flipped on the blaring overhead lights and let the door slam hard in it's frame.

It had the desired effect.

Owen jerked up out of bed, squinting into the bright light until he saw her and then he settled back down onto the bed. He looked up at the springs of the bunk above him. "What?" He asked, his voice rough from sleep.

"You take too long to think." She answered quietly, her voice already wavering.

"Not now, Cristina."

She sunk onto the end of his bed, her throat constricting as she did. Reaching out, she put her hand on his. Her fingers reflexively curled around it and she held on like hell. "You have to talk to me. You have to come home."

"I don't have to do anything." He answered, not pulling his hand away.

"Please." She murmured softly, "Please, Owen. Come home."

He remained silent, still staring at the springs above him. They had been through so much together, there were so many times that it had seemed that they would end, but they made it through.

This time, he didn't feel so safe.

"I know that I want this." Cristina continued, "I don't think. I _know_."

Her own words haunted her, and for a fleeting moment she wondered where she would be if she had said that she knew she wanted it before. The thoughts only made the pain in her chest worse. She couldn't go through this again.

She was terrified to go through it again.

"I _don't_ know!" He snapped, finally sitting up and looking at her. "We were fine! We were happy…and then _he_ shows up. He shows up and suddenly you're sticking up for him and stitching his face. You're looking at him like…" He stopped himself, glaring at her. "You went to him. When you were worried about _us_, you went to him. What's to stop you from going to him when you're angry with me? What's to stop you from going to him when I'm absent?"

"I won't! I wouldn't do that!" She argued, "You know I wouldn't do that! You have-"

"To trust you. Yeah. I know." Owen muttered, "I don't. I don't trust you. Not with him. If I don't trust you, I can't marry you. We can't live like this, Cristina."

Cristina shook her head fervently, "No. No, I won't accept that. We have too much. We're too much. You can't walk away."

"I am. I have. I've walked away." He looked away from her.

She was killing him.

Blinking away tears, she looked away from him. The pain in her chest expanded to her shoulders and then into her back, wrapping around and squeezing the very breath from her body. "I'm not letting you do this. You're making a mistake."

"Am I? The way I see it, I'm preventing a million mistakes."

"No you aren't."

"I am. The first would be, 'I didn't mean to see him, we just bumped into each other.' And then it would progress into, 'I didn't mean to see him, I needed a help in surgery.' And then it would turn into, 'It just happened. It was a mistake. I don't know why I did it'. Cristina, you cannot control yourself around him. You cannot stay away from him. The man left you at the goddamn altar and you can't stop thinking about _him_." He spat, exasperated with her.

"So what?! So what if I think about him. It doesn't mean anything!"

"The man left you at an altar in a dress and you still want to see him. You want to talk to him. You defend him against me. After all of that, after everything he did to you and you actually give a damn. You can actually stand having him the same city. It means that you love him, Cristina." He pulled his hand away from hers, unable to take it anymore.

Her eyes focused on the floor and she shook head. "It isn't love."

"It's close enough, Cristina. You can't have us both. It doesn't work that way. You have to pick one."

"I already did, Owen. I picked you. I'm choosing you."

Owen paused for a moment, considering her words. It meant she would have to swear to stay away from him. She would have to stop thinking about him. She would have to never once mention his name again.

He knew it was something that she couldn't do.

It was only going to hurt both of them in the long run.

Their ending was inevitable with him back in the picture.

"I'm sorry." He finally spoke, not looking up at her.

He couldn't look at her. He knew that if he looked at her that he'd change his mind. He'd break and give her a chance and it would only happen again and again until one of them really walked away.

It was better to do it now.

"No." She murmured again, tears escaping the corners of her eyes. "I don't love him. I wasn't trying to do this, this isn't what I wanted. It was nerves, that's all it was."

His voice softened a little, "Maybe those nerves were there for a reason."

Cristina reached out, laying her hand against his face, doing anything she could to make him look at her. She leaned forward and kissed his lips, frowned against them when he didn't respond. "Please. Come home. I want you to come home." She whispered, her fingers stroking over the stubble she loved so much. In her heart, she knew that she wouldn't have the opportunity to do it anymore.

She had already messed up.

Again.

Owen reached up slowly and pulled her hand away from his face, holding it in his. Swallowing the lump in his own throat, he closed his thumb and index finger over the ring he'd put there not that long ago and slid it from her finger.

She bit hard on her lips, fighting back tears as his weight shifted off the bed and he pulled on his scrub top. She opened her mouth to say his name again as he approached the door, but it wouldn't come. The door closed and her body began to shake.

Continuing to fight back the tears, she tried to think of what else she could do. There had to be something else, but nothing would come. Her mind was numb and the finger that used to bear his ring was ominously absent and the only thing she felt was empty.

The first sob escaped from her lips, breaking through the silence in the call room. She wrapped her arms around her body, trying to stop the trembling that had taken over her nervous system. Grief fired from every nerve, overwhelming her until she was in a state of complete collapse.

He was gone, and the only thing she could think is how badly she wanted him back.

She needed him back.

x-x-x-x-x

Owen walked down the hall, doing his best to paint on the façade that all was well in his world. It would certainly be only a small matter of time before everybody knew. Every muscle in his body wanted to go back to her and hold her, to promise that it would be okay. His fingers ached to wipe the tears that he _knew_ were marring her cheeks at this very moment.

He knew that he couldn't.

He knew he was doing the right thing.

His eyes come to focus on Grey at the end of the hallway and he quickened up his pace to find her. He couldn't be there for Cristina, but she could.

She could do what he wouldn't.

Clearing his throat a little he took her by the arm and pulled her aside. "Cristina is in the call room by the south nurses' station. She needs you."

Alarm clearly painted itself across Meredith's face, "She- what's wrong? What happened?"

Owen merely shook his head, "Just go to her. Please."

"Why can't you?" She asked, dread settling in her stomach. She didn't want to put her friend back together again. She didn't want to see Cristina like that again.

Cristina was the strong one. She was the one who was supposed to put Meredith back together. It didn't work the other way around.

It couldn't work that way.

Meredith narrowed her eyes on him, "You go back to her. Go back to her right now. Cristina isn't perfect. She's entitled to mistakes. She has been there for you, she was there for you when I told her to run the other way. You can't do this to her."

"It's done." He said quietly. Without another word, he walked away from the petite woman and towards the emergency room. For as long as he could, he would seek solitude in his work. He wasn't sure what was supposed to happen next, if he should leave or if he should stay.

Leaving would be the coward's thing to do, but it would also be easier. He wouldn't have to see her every day. She wouldn't have to see him.

He grimaced, sniffling a little bit and then clearing his throat to shove down the emotions to keep himself from breaking.

The thought of not seeing her every day was one he couldn't currently entertain. Not right now.

Eventually, he would focus on the future once again. Today, he just wanted to make it through the day. His fingers closed around the ring in his pocket and he felt his own eyes sting. He had wanted so much with her. He had wanted their future, the beautiful little girl with blue eyes and her hair.

He tried to clear his throat again when he realized he would never have any of those things.

This time, it didn't work.


	16. Chapter 16

There was one time, when she was nine.

Blood was slick under her hands, causing them to lose their grip around the gaping wound. Try as she might, she couldn't hold it together.

Cristina wasn't scared then- she was focused; she knew that if she could just keep the wound closed that she'd be okay. Even if she was nine years old, it was common sense. If something was leaking, you patched it up and it wouldn't leak anymore.

Even if the thing that needed to be patched up was her father's chest.

She remembered that as being the one time that she was truly _scared. _Not upset, not hurt or angry, but truly afraid of what exactly was going to happen from that point forward.

The fear hadn't settled in when her father's chest was bleeding, gaping open and she couldn't keep it closed. It didn't settle in when he quit talking to her. It didn't even settle in when he closed his eyes to rest.

No- the fear had settled into Cristina when the bleeding started to slow.

Sometimes, the thought of it makes her eyes well with tears that she hasn't allowed to spill for years uncounted. She knows that her father would be proud of her for keeping her chin up, for holding onto her memory but her composure too.

He wouldn't want tears spilt for him so many years later.

The pavement was slick from rain as she drove.

She couldn't believe that after all these years, after never truly fearing anything, that the emotion had overwhelmed her once more.

Over a man.

The man.

Owen.

The slight dam holding her emotions threatened to break again, but she fought it back. They'd had too many years together. They had been through too much. She recognized that what he constituted to be the end was her fault. She knew that there was a chance that even if she could pull off what she had planned that he still might not come back.

Cristina had to try though.

She would rather live alone than with a man that had driven Owen away without ever laying a hand on her; without ever attempting to intervene in her relationship.

Despite the no parking signs, she left her car in the emergency circle drive and stalked through the hallways to find Burke. Her first few steps were rather ungraceful, the soles of her shoes slick from the assault of rain on the city. Once she found her footing though, there was no stopping her.

Several people attempted to question what she was doing but she didn't answer, only continued on her quest.

He was at the end of the hallway, talking to some colleagues with his arms folded behind his back. As she approached him, she felt her thoughts slow down and focus on the task at hand. She channeled every ounce of sadness, every iota of fear that rushed through her blood vessels and turned it into anger directed at _him_.

Her arm closed around his upper arm, taking him by surprise and he looked down at her. She pulled him away from the conversation without a word, nearly dragging him towards the nearest place that looked to be private.

Until he put a stop to it.

Burke took hold of her hand and pulled it away from his arm. "Cristina." He uttered firmly, "You can't keep doing this. You have to leave."

"No." She snapped, her voice hollow. "You. _You_ have to leave."

His eyebrow raised in surprise, "Excuse me? You're in my hospital."

"You're in my city!" Cristina bit back, her voice raising. "This is _my_ city. You left. You left and started your new life. I started mine _here_. It isn't my fault that yours didn't work. It's not my fault that you're not happy. This is what you chose, Burke. Not me. You can't just come back and expect me to be able to live my life!"

"I haven't done anything to interfere-" He started, but she cut him off once more.

"You think I'm supposed to just not _care_ when I see that look on your face? I'm not supposed to think about whether or not you're okay? You claim that you couldn't call me then. That you didn't want to hear how broken I was. Don't you think that it can apply to me to? Don't you think that I'm capable of feeling the exact goddamn way! You stayed away, Burke. You didn't have to see me when I was empty, when I was existing. How the hell is it fair that I have to see you like this?!" Cristina continued, not caring as to who could hear her.

Burke pulled off his glasses, watching as her chest rose and fell heavily. He could see the reddened corners of her eyes, the puffiness that had made their way beneath them. The signs weren't good, but he had to ask, "Cristina, where is this coming from?"

"He left." The voice that had been so sure and strong only a few minutes ago had retreated, replaced with one that was weaker, one that cracked with the emotion that was precariously controlled. "You _have_ to go. I don't care where. I don't care how. You _have_ to go so I can live my life. He _knows_ me. He gets me. He _loves_ me."

"Why did he leave?" He asked, doing his best not hear yet not process the rest of her words. They felt like daggers, chipping away at the last bit of his being.

Cristina shook her head, "He thinks I love you, that I want you." She raised her eyes to meet his and her voice turned icy, "I don't."

If her previous words had been daggers, that had been a knife straight through his heart. He wouldn't expect her to want him, didn't even know if he wanted her to- but he certainly didn't want to hear it. "And me leaving would accomplish-"

"It would make things better. That's all you need to know." She answered firmly.

"Are you certain?"

"I wouldn't ask if I weren't."

Burke took her words in, but he already knew his answer. He owed her as much, to leave Seattle and to let her live her life. Seattle may have felt like home to him, it may have been the place he was most comfortable, but it was the place that he left.

"I need time to give my notice," He answered, glancing over his shoulder. "A week to ten days."

Cristina watched as he averted his eyes and she knew that she was hurting him, but it was what she had to do. What bothered him right now wasn't nearly as important as getting Owen back.

It wasn't nearly as important as alleviating the fear that now overwhelmed her.

"Thank you," She answered quietly, a hint of relief in her tone. She found herself at a loss for what she was supposed to do now. It would be too soon for her to go to Owen, to tell him the news- he would need time. Just a couple of days though, nothing too substantial- she didn't want him to get too far away from her.

Burke took her in one last time, his heart aching in his chest as he did. It would really be the last time that he would see her. He knew that nothing would come of them, knew that she had somebody when he had come to Seattle- but he would have at least been close. He would have been able to see her, even if it was in random passage.

Not anymore.

She turned away from him and started down the hall without saying another word. She didn't know how to say anything she might have wanted to. Silence was better.

Cristina always felt it was better to leave things unsaid.

He watched as she went and she made it a few feet before he finally called out her name, not being able to just leave their ending at that.

She stopped, turned to look at him without saying a word.

He smiled sadly at the way her eyes glistened and his own felt a little bit misty. "Don't take no for an answer. He loves you. It's harder to walk away from somebody when they fight you."

Cristina didn't allow herself to wonder if he would have stayed if she fought him or whether or not he left so quickly because he knew that she'd fight him- or maybe that she wouldn't. She simply nodded, her arms hanging at her sides. "I won't." She inhaled, swallowing against the lump in her throat. "Take care of yourself. Don't marry anymore nurses."

He laughed slightly, couldn't help but smile at her joke. It was just like her to say something like that. Sliding his glasses back on, he walked in the opposite direction of her, not once looking back.

If it would make her happy, if he could do anything to help her now- he would do it. Burke wasn't sure about where he was going to go next or what he would do, but it was an afterthought. What she needed was more important.

What she wanted came first.

With a sad smile, he found himself wishing that he had learned that lesson long ago.


	17. Chapter 17

Despite his better judgment, Owen was worried about her.

He knew that he wouldn't be able to shut off his emotions completely for her, he knew that feelings would linger for a long time- but this was more than that. He was genuinely worried.

He wanted to check on her.

It wasn't like Cristina to take days off work, let alone three of them in a row.

Everybody had taken notice of her absence, though nobody had made mention of whether or not they'd actually taken time to check on her. The only thing he could get out of Grey was a simple, 'She's fine.', which left him more frustrated than anything else.

Fine was never a good thing with Cristina.

Owen couldn't take fine for an answer, not where Cristina was concerned. She meant too much to him, no matter what their circumstances. With no surgeries on the board and the fellow to cover on him, he made a quick break for the locker room.

After changing his clothes in what might be record time, he had to make himself slow down. Whatever was wrong with Cristina- it wasn't life threatening and he realized that part of his urgency was just that he _wanted_ to see her. The thought actually resulted in a brief pause, a consideration of what he was doing to himself.

Maybe he shouldn't check on her.

Grimacing at the thought, he continued forward to the parking lot at a slower pace. There was no way that he couldn't at least make sure that she was okay. What he'd done to her was cruel. He hadn't intended to break it off with her in a hospital call room. He didn't want to leave her in a place where nobody could see how vulnerable she was.

He didn't want to string her along either.

When he had removed that ring from her finger- an act of freeing her, one that he had hoped would take the weight off of her shoulders that came with their demise; he knew that he had probably hurt her more than he had wanted to help her. There wasn't a passing second that he didn't regret taking his ring off of her finger.

There wasn't a moment that he didn't wonder if he'd done the right thing.

He wished far too often that he hadn't.

His eyes narrowed as he neared his pick-up. Somebody was sitting on his tailgate. Immediately, every muscle in his body tensed as he picked up the pace towards his truck, his eyes narrowing in the dark, tying to make out who it was.

He was surprised when got close enough to realize it was Cristina.

Owen stopped a few feet from where she was, as if being within a few feet of her would break any last ounce of willpower that he had. She was as beautiful as ever, despite the fact it had only been a few days since he'd last seen her.

She would never stop leaving him breathless.

There was something about here that was different, something he sensed just in her being, but he couldn't lay his finger on it. She looked almost content, and his heart sunk a little when he assumed the reason. "What are you doing here?"

Just hearing his voice again made Cristina happy, especially when it wasn't laced with anger. She held her hand out for his. "Come here."

He hung back, hands jammed firmly in his pocket. "I'm fine here, Cristina."

"It's not where you belong." She said softly, scooting over on the tailgate. "Please sit down. Hear me out."

His actions were obviously hesitant, but he made his way to her side and sat just barely on the edge of the tailgate. There wasn't a need for words as he looked over at her, resisting the urge to reach out and brush a thick curl from her face.

"He's leaving." Cristina murmured softly, reaching out to feel the stubble on his cheek. She smiled faintly at the feeling. It was a feeling she'd grown to love over the years, one that she'd missed in the past few days. "I told him to leave Seattle. I know that you left, that you think I don't want this. But…I do. I'm not taking no for an answer. If..i f I can't have you, I'd rather be alone. I'd be alone before I went to him. He isn't you, Owen. He never will be."

Owen wasn't sure what to say to her admission. He hadn't expected her to demand him to leave and he wasn't sure of a response- it made him happy that he was gone, but he didn't know how much damage had been done. His hand came up to take hers, but he didn't remove it, only touched her. He'd missed her.

Carefully, she inched closer to him. "You can't leave me. I won't take no for an answer. I know that I hurt you, and I know that my words can't just magically fix this. But I will fix this. We will get back to where we were. We will get married. And you _will_ give me my ring back." She added with a slight smile.

He laughed just a little at the demand, his fear that he'd hurt her dissipating a little. No longer able to fight the urge, Owen pulled her into his arms and held her tightly. His heart swelled in his chest, the walls still tight, but in a better way this time. He wasn't sure how he knew, but he just _knew_ that she had meant it.

Every word.

He _knew_ that he couldn't leave her alone.

Cristina buried her face against his chest, breathing him in. Her fingers curled around his jacket, holding onto him as if he could let go at any time. "Do what you have to do." She murmured softly, "Take your time. You don't have to come home right now. But…just come home. Eventually. Come back to me. I don't want a future without you in it."

Owen nodded, kissing the top of her head. He wouldn't be ready to go home with her that night, but he was ready to go home. If it were even possible, he held her more tightly. His lips brushed against her forehead and her cheek, over her closed eyelids. They continued on a downward path until their lips met.

She curled her fingers around the back of his neck, their kiss timid at first but quickly becoming deeper, more desperate. Their need for each other could be likened to one's need for oxygen, neither one cared to pull away, to take in a single breath- for the first time in days, they were breathing again.

His hands started to wander first and he was surprised when hers stopped his. That was definitely something new on her part. Their fingers twined and he continued to kiss her in earnest, his body aching for her.

Her lips pulled away from his, "Not tonight," she whispered, her breath already ragged. "I don't want that to become an apology."

Despite the fact that his body was pleading with him to persuade her otherwise, he nodded in agreement. He still held her close, his fingers tangling through her curls. Owen was already beginning to believe that she did indeed want to fix this, that whatever had transpired with Burke would truly become a thing of the past.

Cristina almost felt overwhelmed, to be in his arms as she was. The emotion was evident as she spoke, "I don't deserve this. To be here." She paused, her eyes growing damp and she cleared her throat. "I don't get scared. Ever. And I was."

Her broken admission surprised him. Over the past few weeks, he'd come to question everything he thought he'd ever known about them. Despite her words, her actions continued to hurt him in unimaginable ways. He felt as if their years had meant nothing.

He was realizing now that maybe he was wrong.

"I'm sorry," She finally managed, knowing those two words were always the hardest for her to say. As they rocked gently back and forth in the cool night air, she said it over and over again. She couldn't say it enough to him.

Owen quieted her, each apology had chipped away at his resolve and he knew it would be hard enough to go home as it were. He continuously brushed kisses atop her curls, murmuring soft 'I love yous'. They sat like that for countless minutes before finally parting ways.

They had promised to meet the next day for lunch and they would go from there. Despite the fact that they had each vowed to take it easy, that there wasn't a rush on anything- both knew that they wouldn't be able to keep that up for long.

They needed each other too much.

Cristina didn't believe in the phrase meant to be. She didn't believe in soulmates and she didn't believe in happily ever after. But she believed in Owen. She believed in what they had.

She had almost sacrificed their future together for what? Worry about a man who left her and never looked back. Even if she did care about Burke, she needed Owen. Even after he left, he still looked back, still asked Meredith about how she was doing. He didn't run away, leaving her to wonder what had happened and where she'd gone wrong.

He _loved _her.

She knew that Owen would always be there for her no matter what.


	18. Chapter 18

Cristina paced nervously back and forth through her apartment.

Originally, the plan had just been for a casual lunch. Historically, they were never good at keeping those kinds of plans. They were never good at staying away from each other, even when they really should have. This wasn't any different.

Her heels echoed loudly against the floor of their apartment and she thought about the first date they'd ever attempted. Strangely enough, the only thing that seemed out of place to her now were the flowers. Nobody had ever brought her flowers before and she wasn't sure what to do with them. The memory made a slight smile cross her lips. There was pain with it but somehow over the years, the pain had faded and there was only good left.

They were good together.

She glanced at the clock and sighed softly.

Where the hell was he?

Trying to calm herself, she sat down and flipped through a journal. She looked at the words on the pages, but didn't really take any of them in. Her mind was racing, her body too tense. With a grunt of resignation, she tossed it to the side and stood up to start pacing again.

Each of them knew what would happen.

There would be wine and dancing, they'd have some sort of dinner. They'd talk and laugh and then they'd fall into each other's arms. He'd come home and life would go back to normal.

They couldn't stay away from each other.

He wasn't staying away.

He was just late.

Everything was fine.

Cristina looked up at the clock again beginning to feel hope slip away when somebody knocked on the door. She sensed hesitation in the light knock and she smiled. Maybe he was nervous too.

She crossed to the door to open it. Her outstretched hand paused before gripping the cold metal of the door handle. An inexplicable uneasiness settled over her from nowhere and she shook it off as nothing more than nerves.

Meredith was on the other side of the door.

Cristina's brow furrowed a little as she studied the look on her friends face and then she felt her own fall. "He's not coming, is he?"

Her voice trembled when she spoke, she didn't want to be the one to tell her. She didn't want to be the one to hurt Cristina. Goddammit, he wasn't supposed to break her again. "Y-you need to come with me, Cristina."

The urgency in Meredith's voice shook her to the core and she shook her head a little. "N-no. I'm not going anywhere. Owen is coming. Isn't he?"

Meredith took hold of her arm and physically pulled her into the hallway, "Come on. We have to go."

Cristina stumbled forward, didn't fight when Meredith pulled her apartment door closed. Whether or not the door was locked was an afterthought as she was ushered into the passenger side of Meredith's care. She couldn't help but notice that there was something restrained and rushed about her driving all at the same time. The unsettled feeling had found it's way back into her veins and it wasn't going away any time soon.

"Mer," She said quietly, the word more of a question that she couldn't bear to finish.

Meredith couldn't answer her. She didn't know what to say. Her tiny hands curled even more tightly around the steering wheel as she drove. He shouldn't be doing this to her. She was so fucking angry at him for doing this to her person.

She didn't know if she'd be able to put her back together.

When they pulled up in front of Seattle Presbyterian, Cristina inhaled sharply. The bright red glow of the emergency room sign loomed over her and only cemented her worst fears. She shook her head, clutching to the door handle. "No."

With tears pricking her eyes, she looked over at Cristina. The exuberance that had painted her face when she first opened the door had long faded and now the color had drained out of her face too. She slowly got out of her seat and closed the door. She took her time getting to Cristina's side of the car, trying to give her a moment to process things.

There was no reason to rush.

Cristina couldn't wait for Meredith to make it to her side. She flung her door open and raced past Meredith. Her heel caught on a small pothole in the ambulance bay and she stumbled forward. She abandoned the shoes and continued inside, her eyes frantically searching for him.

Nurses tried to stop her, but she pushed them away, searching for any sign of Owen. The only person she found, however, was Burke.

He looked up to see Cristina wandering the emergency department aimlessly, her feet bare. Her dark green dress moved gracefully with her as she moved from curtain to curtain, jerking them back as nurses tried to stop her. His eyes continued to travel to the door and he saw Grey behind her, holding a pair heels and her eyes streaked with tears. She shook her head at him and he knew that Cristina had no idea.

Quietly, he walked to her and took her by the arm. "Cristina, come with me."

Cristina jerked her arm away from his, "Not now."

Burke took hold of her arm again, "Cristina."

She looked up at him helplessly, her throat constricting and her eyes watering, "Where the hell is he?" She uttered in a broken voice, she didn't let a moment pass before it raised and she snapped at him again, "Where the hell is Owen?"

His voice remained low and calm, his hand still firmly gripping her upper arm. "I will take you to him."

Her shoulders started to hunch over and she shook her head as he led her along to one of the trauma rooms. The blinds were closed and the room was absent of it's usual flurry of activity. There were no nurses rushing around with fluids and no doctors barking orders.

It was quiet.

As they got close to the room, her feet stopped moving. She couldn't see what was behind that door- didn't want to. A slight sob escaped her lips and she shook her head more fervently. Cristina didn't even know the story yet. Maybe it was nothing, but it was all too much at the same time.

Burke continued moving for them, eased her into a chair and knelt in front of her. His hands rested on the arm rest on either side of her, his eyes resting gently on hers. He cleared his throat before he spoke. This was supposed to be professional and detached, what he was doing- but he couldn't keep it that way. Not with her.

He didn't want to hurt her, not like this. But he'd never leave the responsibility to somebody else. He couldn't do that to her either.

His voice was quiet as he started out, uttering her name. Each word became heavier as he spoke, each sentence fading more and more quickly. For every tear that fell from her eyes, another piece of his resolve fell away with them. He was trying to be strong for her but he was failing miserably.

Her mind couldn't seem to wrap around the words. She heard them- accident, ice, overpass, diffuse axonal injury, cardiac tamponade, pneumothorax- she knew what they were. But she couldn't apply it to the situation, she couldn't grasp what he was saying, she didn't want to. "I want to see him. Let me see him." She kept pleading softly in between his explanations.

She had to see it.

Finally, Burke relented, taking her by the arm and leading her into the room. He had demanded that It be cleaned up, that any sign of what they had done disappear. She would have known what they'd done to him in an effort to recover him, to save him. She didn't need evidence.

He stood by the door as she pulled away from him and went to the man's side, watching her carefully. Burke had never been in this kind of situation with her, didn't know what her reaction would be. He only knew that he couldn't leave her alone.

Cristina reached out with a trembling hand and laid it against his cheek, her thumb rubbing against the stubble. She kept waiting, waiting for him to open his eyes, to gasp or inhale, but there was nothing. He was cold and pale, his lips blue. Her thumb continued to stroke the stubble, taking in as much as she could. "Baby, come back to me." She whispered softly, even though she knew there was no way.

He left her.

Her body began to shake and the tears that had silently been falling became more violent. She tried to breathe, but no air would come. The room was spinning around her and she was holding on for dear life to the only thing that had really mattered to her for the past several years and now he was gone. He was gone and she'd spent the past weeks doing nothing but making their life hard.

If she had known that it would happen, she would have married him sooner. They would have gone to the courthouse and they'd have gone on their honeymoon and they'd…she wouldn't have done it all.

She felt Burke's hands enclose her shoulders, and she pushed him away blindly, holding to Owen's arm instead. "Get off of me!" She snapped at him.

It was _his_ fault. It was his fault for coming back. It was his fault for making her think and making her live in the past. The past was fucking over and Owen had been right there and she fucked it all up because of _him_.

Meredith pulled the door open at the sound of Cristina's shouting and saw Burke standing a few feet behind her, ready to step in again if he should need to. She laid a hand against the man's chest to push him back and she advanced to Cristina's side instead. Her arms encircled her from behind and simply held her.

There were no words to be said, no promises of a better day that she'd ever be able to keep. Cristina had been a ghost after Burke and Owen breathed life back into her. He'd made her heart beat again, gave her something to live for besides work.

He'd made her whole.

As she held onto Cristina, she wondered what would happen now. She was scared for her friend, afraid for what the future held for her. She didn't know what would happen from this day forward, how she would move on.

She laid her head against the back of Cristina's shoulder, feeling as her breathing slowed for the first time. From experience, Meredith knew that it was not the last of it.

Cristina had no concept of time, wasn't sure of how long she had stayed there next to his body. Her eyes remained fixed on his face, and she wanted just one more time to see his beautiful blue eyes. She wanted one more time to feel his lips on hers. She kept wishing for just one more minute with him, one more minute to tell him how much she really loved him, how sorry she was for being stubborn, for doing the things she had.

All she needed was just one more minute.

Leaning over, she kissed the frigid skin of his forehead and then his eyelids, whispering an 'I love you' even though she knew he was not there. Cristina did not believe in afterlives, heaven or hell. He was simply gone and all that remained was him. She knew that the only people in the room who heard her statement were the ones that were breathing, but she _needed_ to say it.

She _needed_ him to know.

She never said it enough.

Gently, she pulled away from Meredith and left his side, her feet still bare. Clearing her throat, she looked up at Burke and spoke softly, "There are..papers I need to sign?" She asked, "Belongings?"

Burke nodded, not at all surprised by her matter-of-fact questions. He would suspect nothing less from Cristina. "I'll get them for you."

Cristina leaned against the door with her back to Meredith and what was left of the man she had loved. She couldn't even bear to think his name. She jumped slightly when she felt Meredith's hand on her shoulder.

"Cristina-" Meredith began softly, but was quickly interrupted.

"I need my shoes please."

Meredith nodded and let her take them. She helped her steady herself as she slipped them back on and then watched as she walked to the desk where Burke was standing. Her movements were all robotic as she signed papers, took his personal effects- a wallet and cell phone, a little bit of change. Her eyes welled with tears yet again when she saw Burke extend one last belonging- a long silver chain with a diamond ring secured on it.

A few tears slid down her cheeks as she watched Cristina carefully set his other things aside and move the ring from the chain and onto her finger. The chain joined the rest of his belongings and she went about signing some paperwork.

Meredith's eyes remained fixed on the ring as Cristina finished up her business and then turned to look at her. It took her far too long to respond to Cristina repeating her name and she ignored the tears now dried on her cheeks as she walked back to her friend's side.

Cristina walked next to her, her thumb rubbing against the ring on her finger. She was conscious of Mer's arm wrapped around her shoulder, but she made no move to acknowledge it or reciprocate. The only thing she could think about was going home, crawling into their bed and going to sleep.

She just wanted to sleep.

Burke watched the two women leave and he glanced back at the room.

He wasn't sure what he was supposed to do now. Three days ago, he had turned in his resignation and was prepared to leave Seattle. Now that Cristina was alone, he wasn't sure what to do. He knew that she had Meredith, knew that she would do her best to take care of Cristina.

He knew that she probably would not want him there, but he couldn't help but feel that he shouldn't go.

Not yet.

Burke couldn't leave her alone, not after this.

Not until he knew she would be okay.

He had run away once before because he couldn't bear to see her broken, didn't want to see her trying to put her life back together.

He wasn't about to do it again.


	19. Chapter 19

She couldn't stop crying, couldn't catch her breath.

Owen's arms wrapped around her, holding her tightly and murmuring her name. He kissed her temple, kissed her cheeks, whispered promises in her ear that it was all just a bad dream. Over and over again, he told her how much he loved her, how everything would be fine.

Cristina sobbed into his chest, unafraid of whatever thoughts he was having. He was whole and real and she hadn't lost everything. Her fingers curled around the material of his shirt and she was beginning to wonder if she'd ever really be able to let go of him.

Losing him, feeling his cold skin under her lips- it had all been so painfully real. She clutched even more tightly to him, pulling harder at the material of his shirt and she raised her head to look up into his eyes.

She wanted to look into his eyes.

All she found herself staring at was an oak headboard before her. Her eyes trailed down to the pillow that her fingers clutched to so tightly and saw the spots saturated by her tears. Another sob escaped her lips and she lay back against the pillow, fighting to go back to sleep. She wanted to see his eyes again; she wanted him to look at her.

She needed to go back to sleep.

Her cell phone began to ring and she held onto her pillow more tightly. She wasn't getting out of bed.

Not today.

Cristina inhaled his scent, still lingering on their sheets. She pulled the blankets more tightly around her, wrapped herself up in the closest thing that she had to him. Soon his scent would disappear, just like he was gone and she'd be left with nothing. Pictures, things that only left her fighting to remember the sound of his voice, the way his stubble felt against her skin, the way his eyes would shine with mischief.

Pictures weren't enough.

Nothing would ever be enough.

The incessant ringing of her cell phone started in again and she picked it up, flipped it open, hung up on the caller and then shut the cell phone off.

She didn't care.

The sunlight poured into her bedroom, one of the four clear days in Seattle a year and it had to be today. Today was supposed to be rainy. It was supposed to be gray and gloomy. It didn't make sense for the sun to be shining. It didn't make sense for the weather to be unseasonably warm.

Cristina pulled the blankets over her head and closed her eyes.

Not today.

x-x-x-x-x

Even amongst the large throng of people gathered, her absence was an obvious one. Each person stood with their hands folded in front of them. Somber masks were placed over the usually expressive faces of the people that had become his friends. Some had tears in their eyes, some managed their emotions.

Some didn't even know what to think.

Word of his death had spread throughout the nation like wildfire. Old colleagues from the army, old friends that Cristina had never met, his mother and father, Alex, George- they had all come.

Meredith stood in awe of the gathering of people. He had touched this many lives. Her eyes followed the grassy meadow, the dead grass giving way to several uniformed soldiers holding guns. She trailed back to the casket before her, draped in a vibrant American flag- the brilliant red and stark white a contrast to the darkness it was surrounded by.

She looked down at her watch again and then back up to the row of cars. People were still coming, she could still be coming.

Cristina had been so goddamn insistent that she would be fine to make it on her own. She was so damn stubborn. Meredith should have known better. She should have known that she needed her there. She pulled her cell phone from her bag again and dialed her number, pressing the phone to her ear.

"She's not coming." Alex uttered low, his eyes fixed on the casket. It was hard for him to believe that his mentor was lying in that casket.

Hunt was the first person who had truly had confidence in Alex's abilities as a surgeon. He was the first person to ever trust his judgment. He was the first person to look beyond the stigma of the intern who failed his boards and see the drive that he truly had.

Nobody would ever know it, but the passing of Owen Hunt was something that would affect him for a long time.

"She's coming." Meredith hissed back. "She's on her way. It's hard for her."

"Too hard for her," Alex answered, watching as she dropped the phone back into her bag.

"Nothing is too hard for Cristina." George offered quietly, straightening his tie. "It's Cristina. She can handle anything. Even this."

If she couldn't, who could?

Meredith crossed her arms over her chest. She knew that Cristina couldn't handle this. She had let herself become too involved this time, let herself become too attached to him. They had loved each other too much.

Cristina wasn't strong enough for this.

Derek's hands grasped Meredith's shoulders from behind and he kissed her cheek. "Where is she?" He whispered against her ear, glancing around the group again.

"She's coming." Meredith said again, exasperated.

The small gathering stood in silence, their eyes seemingly fixated upon the dwindling amount of people arriving for the service. Finally, the chaplain began to speak, unable to wait any longer. Meredith looked around, seeing the pained faces of the people around her.

Each one had come here to mourn in their own ways for the man that had touched their lives and left this world far too soon. All of them except Meredith.

She was mourning the loss of her best friend.

Cristina would never be the same.

The service closed and their eyes turned to the armed soldiers atop the hill. In tightly choreographed movements, they aimed their guns into the sky and pulled their triggers. Each shot brought tears to the eyes of more and more people.

Meredith knew that Owen would have hated it. He hated the sound of gunfire, of firecrackers. She knew that Cristina would have cringed at the sounds herself; she had picked up a habit of disliking the same things that he did. She hated seeing that hollow look in his eye that the stimulus always brought about.

Their guns lowered and they marched away as Taps began to play. The flag was pulled from his casket and folded into a neat triangle. With Cristina gone, they placed the flag into his mother's possession, though it was originally planned that she wanted Cristina to have it.

Despite their luck with mothers, Owen's mother had a fondness for Cristina that was inexplicable. She felt that she had been good for her son. She was excited about the things that she brought out in Owen, the exuberance that she drew out of him.

Meredith smiled sadly as his mother looked up at her as the service concluded. Carefully, the older woman worked around the patches of lumpy grass to Meredith and she extended the flag.

"Please," She asked in a broken voice, "Make sure this gets to Cristina."

"Mrs. Hunt, I-I'm sorry. That she's not here. She's-" Meredith started, trying to find an excuse as to why his fiancée couldn't be at his funeral.

The woman grasped her arm tightly, shaking her eyed. Her blue eyes were misty as she spoke, her voice sympathetic. "If it were me, if it were Joe that I had lost? I would not have been able to come either. I wouldn't want to remember the man I loved in a box. Tell her that we love her and that we're here for her if she should need us."

Meredith nodded, her own eyes watery. "I will, Mrs. Hunt." She watched as the woman moved on and placed her knotted fingers atop the shiny wooden box. They stroked the polished wood and she whispered something to her fallen son, tears slipping down her cheeks.

One by one, they all said their goodbyes and Meredith parted from the group to go to Cristina's apartment. As she was unlocking her car door, she felt a firm arm on her hand and she spun to find Alex behind her.

"I'm coming too."

"Alex, now-"

"No. You don't know what kind of place she's in." He said firmly before pulling her car door open for her.

Meredith's eyes focused on Alex for a long moment before she finally nodded and moved into her seat. Alex would know about losing a loved one, though the time was no comparison. They were more alike than either one of them would ever admit, perhaps it would be enough to give Cristina perspective, to give her support.

He had to have something for her, because Meredith felt helpless. She didn't have anything; she couldn't offer any hope or anything funny. She couldn't take away Cristina's pain.

Nobody could.

The drive to Cristina's apartment was ominously silent, both hurting in their own ways but more worried about Cristina. Both feared that they had never seen Cristina so broken. Neither was sure how they were supposed to handle it.

Meredith knocked on the door first, pretending that Cristina might actually answer it, but she knew better. She waited only a few moments before pushing the door open. "Cristina, we're here." She announced into the apartment. It was stale. It was quiet.

It reminded her of death.

Alex walked around, looking at the various parts of their apartment. There were actually pictures; pictures of them together, mostly candid stuff. He'd never really seen Yang smile like that before, never seen Hunt like that either.

He recognized that feeling. A long time ago, somebody had brought that out in him as well.

Meredith pushed open the door to Cristina's room and found her exactly where she had expected to. She was swathed in a green bedspread, her eyes closed. She watched her friend's chest move unevenly and she knew that she wasn't sleeping. Playing along with her, she walked to her bedside, shook her lightly and said her name softly.

Maybe Cristina would play back.

Instead, she kept her eyes closed, pretended not to feel the jarring interruption to the lack of stimulus she'd surrounded herself in. She had nothing to say, no explanation for missing his funeral. Today, she was not doing anything; she was not talking to anybody, she was not explaining herself.

Not today.

Alex walked into the room, putting his hand on Meredith's shoulder. "Leave her alone. She's asleep." He said.

Meredith opened her mouth to protest but Alex made a face that told her to shut it. She got up and left the room, frustrated now with both of them rather than just Cristina.

She was allowed to hurt today, next week, maybe even six months from now. Meredith understood. She was just afraid that she'd never be able to pull her out of it.

Alex knelt in front of Cristina's face, just beside the bed and he watched her for a moment, waiting for her to open her eyes. Normally he'd jerk the covers of the bed or jar her around somehow, but he knew the place she was in. He knew that now wasn't the time.

When her eyes didn't open he sighed softly, putting his head in his hands. "Look. I wish I could tell you that it gets easier. I wish…that I could tell you that one day you wake up and the pain that you feel right now is gone. But it doesn't. I still wake up and the first thirty seconds of every morning, it's like she's there in the bed. Like my arms are around her and I can…_feel_ her." His voice broke at the end of the sentence, "I wish I could tell you that it gets better and that you move on. But you don't. You just learn to manage."

Cristina's breath shook, her eyes watering beneath the tightly closed lids. "I'm fine. I'm tired."

He nodded, understanding the sentiment. "I know you are, Yang. I know."

She rolled away from him, not wanting anyone else to see her tears. She was so tired of crying, tired of trying to fight for some semblance of composure.

Alex watched her for a minute before he stood back up and straightened himself out. "You get today off. Tomorrow you have to get your scrawny ass out of bed and eat something. You look like-" He stopped himself short of his joke.

"A corpse." She finished for him in a bitter tone. "Just go."

He left the room, closing the door behind him but not before hearing her losing control of her emotions. Looking up at Meredith he shook his head. She would never understand, or at least he hoped that she wouldn't. Nobody deserved to be in the place that they were in.

"Isn't she going to get up?" Meredith asked, "She needs to eat something. She needs to get out of bed."

"Just chill," Alex nearly snapped and then exhaled heavily, "Just chill. Today, she doesn't have to eat or get out of bed. She doesn't have to do anything. Not today."

Meredith looked past him, her eyes boring into the frosted glass door of her bedroom and she sighed.

She would have to try again tomorrow.


	20. Chapter 20

Never in his life had Burke felt more out of place, more uncomfortable.

The image of Cristina sobbing over another man's body, whispering that she loved him, putting on his ring despite the fact that he was long gone were images that had burned into his memory. They had haunted him every moment of the past eight days.

It was what he had run away from. It was what he wanted to spare himself from facing.

Seeing her in pain would have been one thing, seeing her empty and hurt. Telling her no when she attempted to clear things up, _if_ she had tried to clear things up. But seeing her fall for another man? Seeing her love somebody else?

It was unbearable.

After that night, he had decided he was going to leave. The valiancy that had struck him to stay behind for her, to make sure she was okay was fleeting. He was a coward and he knew it. He couldn't see her like that.

He couldn't make things better.

His things were in boxes, his position was filled and he was going to leave.

He was going to, until Meredith found him. Until she told him about Cristina and how she'd given up.

Burke's heart sank in his chest as he listened to the woman ramble on and on about how she can't get her out of bed and how she hasn't been to work. She doesn't eat, doesn't talk, doesn't do anything. She knew that she would be sad, but she'd never seen Cristina like that before and she doesn't know what else she can do for her.

He knew that he couldn't leave her like that.

Now he was surrounded by their things; pictures, little trinkets from their life together. It was a museum of Cristina moving on and forgetting him. He looked at the bedroom door, hanging open and he saw her black tresses strewn across a pillow.

If he hadn't left her so long ago, none of this would be happening.

If he hadn't seen her at the conference, she'd be sharing that bed with another man.

If. If. If. If.

It was all if and what might have been.

This was now.

There was no turning back, no making up for the past, no fixing previous regrets. The only thing left was the future and he wanted to make sure that she had one.

He walked into the bedroom, his eyes fixated on her. He could tell by the pattern of her breathing that she wasn't asleep and he wasn't going to fall for her games. "Cristina." His voice was firm, unforgiving. Hopefully he could piss her off enough that she'd get out of bed on her own. He saw when she flinched at the sound of his voice, but she made no further movement.

Shaking his head, he pulled the covers away from her and took hold of her hand. "Come on. We're getting out of bed."

Cristina pulled her hand away from his, "Get the hell out of my apartment."

"No. Not until you get the hell out of your bed." He said, grabbing her hand again and tugging a little harder than he had intended.

She fought against him, "I'm _fine_."

"You're not fine, Cristina. You're not supposed to be. Get out of bed. Please. I'll make you something to eat." Burke pleaded, still holding her hand tightly.

"I'm _fine_." She said again, pulling her hand away more forcefully. "I don't want you here. I don't want you pretending to care. This is your fault. You did this to us. You drove us apart. If you hadn't apologized, if you hadn't come back and made me care…he'd be here. None of this would have happened. This is _your_ fucking fault. Get the hell out of my apartment."

Burke saw the tears creeping into the corners of her eyes and he tried to steel himself against her emotions. Against the onslaught it stirred within him. He settled onto the edge of the bed and easily reached out to pull her small frame into his arms. "It's my fault." He said, knowing that the words she spoke were at least possibly true.

"Let me go." She snapped again, "I don't want you here."

"But you need me here." He said, holding onto her. "I broke this. Let me fix it. Let me try to make it better."

Cristina's eyes misted over as she struggled against his arms, tried her best to pull away from him. It was his fault. It was his fault that Owen was gone, that she was so stuck in the past. It was his fault that she was in the place that she was in now, and even there he just couldn't leave her alone. "Let me go." She choked, "I'm fine. I'm fine and I'll be fine, just let me go."

His hold on her was firm until he felt her stop struggling against him. Her body started to shake instead and he pulled her closer, his arms wrapped tightly around her. For a fleeting moment, Burke wondered if she had allowed anybody to comfort her in all of this. "I'm sorry," He murmured into her hair, "Cristina, I'm so sorry."

She wanted to tell him to shut up and push him away, but grief took hold of her again. Her arms wrapped around one of his and she laid her head against it, trying to hide her tears. Over and over again, she listened as he apologized and promised her that it would be okay. She held more tightly to his arms, listening to the words.

Alex had told her that it would never be okay. Meredith could barely look at her, barely knew what to say.

Nobody else had promised her that it would be okay.

Cristina didn't believe him; she knew that nothing would ever be the same. In the same instance though, she needed to hear those words. She needed to know that it wasn't always going to feel like this. Her eyes closed and her breathing started to even out.

Burke felt the moment that she started to relax and he ran his fingers through her hair. For a moment, he contemplated telling her that Owen wouldn't want these things for her but quickly decided against it. He was nobody to speak of what her fiancée had wanted for her- for them. Instead, he continued to murmur that it would be okay. That she could just take it one day at a time.

That it was all anybody could do.

"I'll go home," He murmured into her curls, "I'll go home as soon as I know that you're okay. Not fine, not going to be fine, but okay. You prove to me that you're okay, and you'll never have to see me again."

She nodded against his arm, her eyes closed. Cristina didn't want him to stay, yet in this moment, she didn't want to move either. For the first time since he'd left her, she felt something other than empty, something other than numb. "I'll prove I'm okay later." She finally answered, making no effort to move.

He looked down at her, seeing her eyes closed and finally nodded himself. "Okay. You can prove to me that you're okay later." Burke started to ease his arms from around her, but she held onto him more tightly.

"You don't get to leave. I had to see you broken." Cristina muttered. "It's your turn."

A small smile crossed his lips and he resigned easily to her sentiment. "It's my turn." He echoed, "I won't go anywhere. Not right now."

Cristina laid in his arms in silence. He wasn't Owen and he'd never be Owen. In two hours, she would hate him again, more than she'd ever hated him before. She still blamed him for everything that he'd done. She still believed that Owen would be here if it wasn't for him coming back to Seattle. It couldn't stop her from asking him though, couldn't stop her from wondering. "You really think it will be okay?"

Burke smiled sadly before he confirmed her words, pulling her just a little more closely. He knew that she needed the reassurance right now.

"Yeah, Cristina. It will be okay."

_What might have been? It's something that haunts our thoughts every day. Rarely do we have a chance to revisit the past but when we do we have to be careful. A past revisited leads to a future forgotten. We often forget that the past is there for a reason- to remind us of the things we did wrong so that we don't do them again. A life lived in the past leads to more loss than gain; it leads to more pain rather than peace. _

_Things are always changing; they will never stay the same. Time moves forward and waits for no man. The most you can do is hold onto the now, hold onto what you have and remember that you can never go back._

_No matter how good the past might have been. _


End file.
